Bonne Nuit, Mon Ami
by Fruktheworld-99
Summary: Arthur decides that he doesn't want to deal with life, so he heads to nearest bar as quickly as possible, but what will happen when the nearest bar is the last place on Earth Arthur would ever want to end up? When he learns that the arrogant bartender, Francis, is quickly falling for him, what will he do? Arthur thinks he has finally gotten rid of that madman, but boy is he wrong.
1. Chapter 1

Arthur couldn't take it. He was going to go to the bar, get drunk, and cry himself to sleep. He didn't care what anyone thought anymore, not after everything that had happened to him. His boss had fired him, his family hated him, and worst of all he had no friends that he could vent to.

Arthur stepped out of his flat and walked down the stairs that led to the sidewalk, the cold air stinging his already teary eyes. He didn't know where the nearest bar was so he picked a direction and walked that way until he found a modern night club where he most likely wouldn't fit in, but he didn't care. He walked through the door and immediately regretted it. There were young people, mostly guys, everywhere, dancing and singing and doing whatever _that_ was; Arthur didn't want to know. He walked up to the bar and sat on a bright orange stool. He hated everything about this place- the bright lights, the cheery crowd, the awful techno music- he wanted to go home, but the bar was where the alcohol was, and the alcohol was what would help him forget his problems, even if it only temporarily numbed the pain.

"What can I get you," the bartender asked him. Arthur looked up and noticed that the man had long blond hair pulled back into a ponytail and a very strong French accent.

"Whatever you think is the best to help me forget all my problems for tonight," Arthur didn't care what he drank, as long as he didn't remember anything the next morning.

"Ah, I don't think you need alcohol for that, _mon ami_." The bartender winked at him. Arthur couldn't tell if this flirting was real or if it was a joke. He did find this man extremely attractive for some reason, and maybe- no, it would never happen, not in a million years.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. I'm having a bad day. Just please get me something now."

"Okay, whatever you say, eyebrows."

"What did you call me?"

"Nothing, sir." He left and was back a few minutes later. "Here, drink this." Arthur looked at the electric blue drink in his hand. This was not what he had in mind, but this was a bar for young people. Wait, no, Arthur looked around, having a sudden realization. _Oh bloody hell_, Arthur thought to himself, _I'm in a gay bar, aren't I? Great, just what I need. Well at least it can't get any worse._ Arthur looked back at the beverage, if you could call it that. It looked more like a weird potion or some sort of chemical. He took a drink. It tasted like fruit and rainbows and everything that Arthur associated with the word gay. He didn't care though, as long as no one he knew saw him here, everything would be fine. Hopefully no one would try to talk to him. He finished the drink and the bartender appeared in front of him again.

"No offence, but you don't look like you belong here, _mon ami_."

"Oh, I don't believe I do. I just walked to the nearest bar I could find. Pardon me for not being a flaming homosexual. Can I get another one of these, they seem to be working quite well." And they were. Arthur had no idea what was in that blue thing, but he already felt slightly light-headed.

"Sure, but be careful. Don't get too drunk and wander out in the street to get hit by a car or something of the sort."

"I'll be fine."

Arthur had just finished his fourth, no fifth, blue whatever you would call it. He decided that that was enough for tonight and he paid the bartender, whose name he learned was Francis, and stood up to leave.

"Sir," Arthur heard Francis say, "Do you need any help getting home?"

"No I'll be fine, you frog, I can find my way back home."

"Ok, whatever you say."

Arthur made his way to the door. Over the duration of however long he had been there the crowd had definitely died down, but since he was so drunk, Arthur was seeing double and he tried to avoid people who weren't actually there. He finally got to the exit and staggered out, the cold air refreshing. He didn't realize how hot it was in the bar until he stood there, outside, snow falling on and all around him.

"Now which way is my flat," Arthur asked himself. He decided to go left and if it was the wrong direction he could come back and go the other way.

After about an hour or so of wandering the streets, Arthur had somehow gone in a circle and made his way back to that stupid bar. Standing across the street, he could see that it was closed, and Francis was just locking the door.

"Oi, frog! Yeah you! How do I get home?" Arthur noticed that the few people walking by gave him strange looks, but Francis just stood there and laughed. Arthur stumbled across the street, nearly getting ran over in the process.

"So you couldn't find your way back home, no? I told you so." Francis was still laughing. Oh God, his laugh was beautiful.

"Just shut up and take me home, bloody frog."

"I would love to if you stop calling me frog."

"I can't promise anything."

"Alright, come on,_ mon ami_, where do you live?"

"I'm not telling you, creep. You could be some sort of stalker or murderer or something."

"Well how am I supposed to take you home if I don't know where you live?"

"You have a home don't you? Take me there." Arthur couldn't believe what he was saying. He had no filter when he was drunk, and he couldn't help himself. Francis was so bloody beautiful. "My God, I _am_ a flaming homosexual."

"Don't get too far ahead of yourself friend, we haven't even been on a date yet. Call me in the morning when you're less intoxicated and will make better decisions."

"Okay, fine. I live in a flat just down the street."

"Well, there's only one apartment complex within walking distance from here, I will take you there so you can see if it is yours."

"Okay."

"Alright, Arthur, _allons__-y_." Francis took Arthur's hand and half-led half-drug him to his car.

"Okay, Doctor."

"What?"

"Never mind." Arthur giggled.

Arthur sat in the passenger seat of Francis's car, waiting. Francis had forgotten something in the bar and he left Arthur here so he could go get it. Arthur couldn't believe what was happening. It's like there was a voice in the back of his head telling him that he shouldn't be here, but the sound of alcohol rushing through his veins blocked the voice out.

Arthur snapped out of his daze when Francis threw the car door open and sat inside. "Are you still drunk, _mon ami_, or did you magically become sober while I was gone?" Francis started the car and pulled out of the parking lot.

"Why do you keep calling me that? _Mon ami_," Arthur pronounced the words completely wrong, "what does that even mean? I don't speak frog, you know."

"Ah, you are still drunk, and it's French. It means 'my friend'," Francis's explained. Arthur noticed that his eyes were the bluest blue he had ever seen, but at the same time they were also somehow purple.

"I didn't know guys could have purple eyes," Arthur said, changing the subject completely. That little voice had finally given up and gone to bed. He no longer had any self-control.

"My eyes are not purple, Arthur. Now let's get you home before you start mentioning how pink my hair is."

"Your hair actually does have a pinkish glow to it," Arthur laughed, something he hadn't done in a long time. He suddenly stopped laughing and gasped, "My hair isn't pink, is it? God, I hope not. That would look extremely tacky."

"No, your hair is not pink. It's as blond and as dull as it was five minutes ago."

"My hair's not dull, your hair is dull. Frog."

"Don't make me stop this car."

"No! Please don't! I need to go home," Arthur shouted.

"Okay. I was only joking, _Mon Dieu._"

"There you go with your bloody French again, saying things that I don't understand."

"Well, get used to it. We're here anyway."

Arthur looked out the window. That was definitely his flat, but he didn't want to go. He didn't want to leave Francis. He liked him. He was nice. He made a sudden decision.

"This is not where I live."

"Are you sure?"

"Yep, I'm sure. This is not my home."

"It has to be."

"Well it's not."

"Fine, then where do you live."

"Here," Arthur started laughing again. He couldn't stop. "I got you didn't I? You believed me when I said I didn't live here. You're so gullible, frog!"

Francis sighed, "You need to go to bed. Come on. What number is your flat?"

"Number 69." Arthur laughed again.

"Very funny, now where do you actually live?"

"Number 13 I think."

"Do you have a key?"

"Yes, it's in my pocket."

"Okay, give it to me. I don't want you to drop it in the snow."

Arthur pulled the key out of his pocket. "Here." He threw it to Francis, who luckily caught it. They started up the stairs that led to flat number 13.

"We're here," Francis said as he unlocked the door. Arthur immediately ran through the door, pushing Francis out of the way, and into his bedroom, jumping into his bed and instantly passing out. Francis quietly followed and set the key down on the bedside table, along with a small slip of paper.

"_Bonne nuit, mon ami_," Francis whispered as he gently closed the door.


	2. Chapter 2

Arthur awoke to the sun glaring through his blinds, casting jagged shadows on the wall opposite the window. Of all the days, it just had to be sunny today, what luck. He tried to sit up, but the pain in his head made it impossible for him to move. _What happened last night?_ Arthur decided to go back to sleep. He didn't have anywhere to be now that he no longer had a job. Before he got the chance to close his eyes, he noticed something small and white on his bedside table. He tried to pick it up without moving too much, which was still excruciating. He looked down at the small piece of paper, and instantly the memories started to flow back into his mind. Written on the note, in small, slanted cursive was a name and phone number, along with something else.

_Francis Bonnefoy_

_ 135-2468_

_ Call me any time, mon ami_

_ XOXOXO_

Arthur could barely remember this man. _Francis_. That name did bring a face to mind. _The bartender, that's who it was. I hope I didn't do anything too embarrassing. _He couldn't remember much, but his recollected feelings for that blond Frenchman made him jolt. He thought of how drunk he would've had to have been to actually find another man attractive.

Whoever he was, Francis better not actually be expecting that phone call. He agreed that he would never step foot in that bar again. He decided to go back to sleep until standing was at least bearable.

After a few hours of trying to sleep, tossing and turning in his bed, Arthur finally decided to get up at 12:14 in the afternoon. While he walked to the bathroom he noticed that his headache was a tiny bit more tolerable than before. When he looked in the mirror, he didn't recognize the man he saw. He had dark circles under his eyes that were worse than they had ever been before. Arthur had been through a lot, but not once did he wake up looking this unkempt. He forced himself to take a cold shower and choke down a bagel before putting on his coat and heading out to the supermarket.

The cold air was something that Arthur was used to, living in London. Even on sunny days, the temperature was still colder than Arthur's lonely heart. All he wanted to do was curl up on his bed and die, but what kind of person would that make him? Arthur Kirkland was not a quitter.

As Arthur made his way to the supermarket, he passed many young couples and he felt a pang of something, almost pain, but mostly jealousy, in his chest. That could be him. Surely he could be happy, but there was always something that held him back from whatever it was that he wanted. He wasn't quite sure why, but he could never get anyone to like him, no matter how hard he tried. Maybe he should get a cat.

Arthur rounded the last corner and walked through the shop's doors. The familiar smell of freshly baked goods that he was so used to washed over him and he was immediately relaxed. He walked over to the bakery and bought a couple scones, which were his favorite pastry. He often attempted to make them himself, but he always failed, and they tasted, as his brother said, "Like petrified couch stuffing."

"Oh hello, _mon ami_." Arthur recognized that voice. _Oh no_. He spun around, and as he had expected, Francis was standing there as arrogant as he was last night. At least that's how Arthur remembered him, before the alcohol started warping his view of the world.

"Hello, frog." Arthur did not want to be here. He wanted nothing to do with this French twat.

"What a miraculous turn of events. I was starting to think I'd never get to see you again, _mon ami_. I couldn't stand the very idea."

"I don't think 'miraculous' is the word I would use. Don't you have a bar to run or something?"

"No, _chérie_, it is my day off."

"Don't call me that. And why don't you go bother someone else for a change?"

"My, my, don't be such an old grump."

"I'm probably younger than you."

"Fine, don't be such a grump. Having a hangover is no excuse."

"You seemed so kind last night, I almost liked you. What happened? Did the arsehole fairy pay you a visit overnight and sprinkle wanker dust on your face?"

"I believe that is the single most British thing I have ever heard come out of a British person's mouth."

"You shut your mouth."

"No, you shut your mouth."

"What are you, twelve?"

"You're the one who started it."

"Okay, so you _are_ just a twelve year old parading around in an adult suit. A twelve year old child has hit on me. Jesus Christ." Arthur walked away from Francis, and over to the produce section, where he grabbed a bag and started shoving apples into it.

"At least let me cook you dinner. Anything I make will most definitely be better that what you British people call food."

"No. I'm just fine with my 'food' thank you very much." Arthur made sure to make air quotes when he said food.

"Please, French cuisine is much better than... whatever _these_ are," Francis said as he pulled the scones out of Arthur's cart.

"They're called scones, and I don't appreciate you taking my stuff." Arthur yanked the pastries out of Francis's hands and threw them back in his cart. "Now would you kindly leave me alone? I need to get back to my shopping."

"Only because you asked nicely," Francis said. He turned and walked away while shouting, "_Adieu chérie_!"

"I told you not to call me that!" Arthur yelled before he went back to looking at the items on the shelf. "Bloody frog," he whispered to himself. Why did Francis bother him like that? He didn't even know him. Maybe Arthur was blinded by his own self-hatred, and he couldn't see that people could actually like him. He shrugged off the thought and went back to shopping.

When Arthur had arrived at home it was already 2:00 in the afternoon. He couldn't believe he had been gone for two hours. When he started unpacking his groceries, carelessly tossing items on the shelves and in the fridge, he noticed he had forgotten to buy raw beef. _Well now dinner is ruined. I can't make beef stew without the beef. _Arthur didn't want to walk all the way back to the store, but he had no idea what else he could make for dinner. His fridge and cupboards were nearly empty, and he could not cook anything other than stew and scones.

The piece of paper with Francis's number on it seemed to call Arthur's name. He could possibly call Francis and have him cook him dinner, just so he didn't have to. _No, _Arthur thought, _I never want to see that stupid frog again, no matter how good he says his food is._ Arthur settled on having cold cereal for lunch and dinner again, for the fourth day in a row.

As he sat at his kitchen table, eating stale cornflakes, Arthur noticed a strange ad in the newspaper. It was for a job, which was what Arthur was coincidentally in need of, but Arthur gasped when he noticed it was for the bar he was at the other night. He read it over and over, still not quite sure if it was real or just a dream. He would have been just fine if the ad didn't say:

**Bartender Wanted**

**Must have experience working in a bar beforehand, unless**

** You have six-centimeter-thick eyebrows and your name**

** Is Arthur. Then you, my friend, are welcome to come by any**

** Time. **

Arthur read the ad one more time to make sure he was reading it right. How could Francis already have an ad like that published when he only met him the night before? When he confirmed that this was, in fact, reality and not a dream he grabbed the paper and sprinted out the door. Going as fast as he could he crashed down the stairs, out to the sidewalk, and turned the corner, almost slipping as he did so.

He walked for what seemed like twenty minutes, trying to find that stupid bar and that stupid man. Why was he getting so worked up over an ad in a newspaper that nearly nobody read? He had no idea. All he knew was that he was going to go punch that stupid bloody wanker in his stupid frog face. He was pretty sure he was so angry that heat was radiating off of his body, melting the all the freshly fallen snow around him.

He turned the next corner just in time to see Francis walk out of the bar; Arthur assumed it was his lunch break. Before Francis could see him, he hid behind the corner of the building that neighbored the bar. Trying not to be seen while at the same time acting as casual as he could, Arthur crossed the street and ducked behind a small newspaper stand. He watched as Francis turned around and started walking toward across the street, right towards Arthur. _Oh no_ he thought. He quickly straightened out and pretended to browse through the variety of magazines on the shelf. Arthur prepared himself for the worst, but when Francis didn't acknowledge him Arthur turned just in time to see him walk into a small café.

_Oh good, he didn't see me._ Arthur walked over to the cafe and looked in the window. Luckily Francis's back was turned so he wouldn't be seen. He was standing at the counter, ordering something and probably flirting with the waitress.

Arthur suddenly remembered what he was here for. He looked down at the newspaper in his hand and with another burst of anger, pushed the cafe door open and walked up to Francis.

"Oi, frog! What the bloody hell is this?"

"Huh?" Francis turned around and looked at the newspaper. "Oh, hello _mon chérie_. Enjoying your thirty seconds of fame, no?"

"I don't know who you think you are, but I don't appreciate you publishing advertisements that make fun of my eyebrows! And how did you even manage to get an ad in the paper when you had only met me the night before?"

"It was quite simple _mon ami_. My friend works at the printing press and he owed me."

"But why would you do it? Do you not have any manners? Most people don't like their names plastered everywhere along with the size of their eyebrows!" Arthur was very sensitive about his eyebrows.

"Well, there seems to be nothing I can do about it. How can I make it up to you?" Francis grabbed his drink from the waitress and went to sit down, Arthur followed. "I can give you anything you want, chérie." He winked suggestively.

"Oh stuff it, frog," this was the only way Arthur knew how to respond. "Not everyone you meet is going to instantly fall in love with you, you know."

"It has worked so far."

"Well it won't work on me."

"Give it time."

"I cannot believe you. I'm leaving. I never want to see you or my name in your stupid wanted ads again."

"_Adieu, mon ami_," Francis shouted as Arthur stomped out of the building and walked home.

_Stupid frog_ Arthur thought to himself. _Why does he always have to ruin my day?_ Arthur decided it was probably a good idea to stop by the grocery store so he didn't have to have cereal for dinner. He walked in, the familiar and calming scent of pastries and freshly brewed tea washing over him. He had finally managed to go somewhere without hearing Francis's annoying voice or seeing his stupid face.

Arthur paid for his groceries and started to make his way home. _Thanks to that stupid frog, I can't go anywhere without worrying about being seen by him. _When he got home, he made his favorite tea and grabbed his favorite book off the shelf so he could finally relax.

About an hour later Arthur heard a crash outside, followed by an ear-splitting shriek, and then someone pounding on the door. _What is it now? _He got up and walked to the door, still holding his tea. He threw it open, saw what was outside, and nearly dropped his teacup.

"_Bonjour, _Arthur_. _I seem to be in quite a predicament." Francis was in what Arthur would call more than a predicament. His forehead had a huge gash through it, and his face was covered in blood.

"My god, what happened? Come in, I'll clean that up and you can tell me." Arthur may have hated Francis, but he wasn't going to ignore a man with a huge forehead wound.

"Ok but you're not going to like what you hear." Francis followed Arthur into his living room.

"What could possibly be worse than a bloody frog on my doorstep?"

"Oh you have no idea, _mon ami_."


	3. Chapter 3

As Arthur took care of Francis's forehead, he listened to him recalling one of the most ridiculous things he had ever heard.

"So, I was drinking my coffee in the café where we had our previous encounter, and I notice the most beautiful girl walking by the window, so I get up and run outside to go and talk to her."

"Of course you did," Arthur said with a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

"Don't interrupt. Anyway, I left the café but the woman was nowhere to be seen. So I go around the corner to an alley and I see some awful drug addict holding the woman at gunpoint. I thought at first he just wanted her money, but when I realized he wanted...," Francis paused and closed his eyes, "when I realized he wanted more than that, I couldn't just stand there and do nothing, so I walked up to him and told him to leave the girl alone. Then he freaked out and hit me over the head, and that's when everything went black. I woke up with the worst headache ever; I had no idea where I was or what time it was. I stood up and realized that I was in a small room with only one window. I looked outside and saw that I was just across the street from your apartment. So I tried to open the door but it was locked, and I wondered what the hell was going on. After a few unsuccessful attempts of breaking the door down, I decide to climb out the window. It was only about eight feet from the window to the ground, so I jumped, and I ran over here as fast as I could. That's why I'm here."

"Well, how did you know I would be home?"

"You have no friends so I figured you would have no other place to be."

"I have friends. Anyway, do you know what happened to the girl?

"No I'm afraid I don't. That's why I want you to help me find her."

"I'm sorry, but when did I become a part of this?"

"The moment you let me in your flat."

"Well do you have any idea of where she might me?"

"We could look in the building that I was in. Perhaps she is there."

Arthur had just finished bandaging Francis's forehead wound. "Alright. Just know that I'm helping for the girl, not you."

Francis smiled, and Arthur couldn't help noticing that, no matter how annoying he was, Francis had a very beautiful smile. "_Merci, mon ami_. I cannot possibly express how grateful I am."

"Yeah, yeah. Let's just go."

When Francis stood up he wavered slightly then sat down. "Are you alright," Arthur asked, his voice sounding only mildly concerned.

"Yeah I'm fine. Just a bit dizzy. Probably just blood loss." He stood up again, this time he seemed to be better.

"Okay but don't go passing out on me."

"I'll be fine." Francis walked past the couch and to the door. "Are you coming?" Francis reached out his hand for Arthur to take.

Arthur walked to Francis, ignoring his outstretched hand. "Yes I'm coming." Francis dropped his hand, looking slightly disappointed and headed out the door.

Whey they approached the sad, abandoned building across the street, Francis walked up to the door and tried to open it. "I'm afraid it's locked, _mon ami_. We better head home. There's nothing else we can do."

"Wait a minute, are you scared?" Arthur laughed.

"Well, the man that attacked me had a gun and we don't so, yes, you could say I am a bit frightened."

"Don't worry, we'll be fine. I'll make sure to let you rescue the girl so you can be the hero and you two can ride off into the sunset together." Arthur silently congratulated himself on finally finding a way to get rid of Francis. If he and this girl fell in love, he would never be bothered by him again. "But that will never happen unless we get this door open." Arthur backed up and ran at the door, running into it with all of his strength. When he made contact, it ripped off the hinges with a loud creaking sound, and nearly shattered. "Thank God for abandoned buildings."

The two men stepped inside, and the stench was nearly unbearable. "Bloody hell! It smells like a thousand dead skunks in here." Arthur reached up to cover his mouth and Francis did the same. They split up and searched the first floor, and when they didn't find anything they met up back where they first came in.

"Did you find anything," Arthur asked.

"No, you?"

"Nothing interesting. Should we go upst-" before Arthur could finish, there was a loud crash and a scream, a scream of a young woman. They ran up the old, worn out stairs and prayed that they didn't fall apart. When the two made it up the stairs without dying, they heard someone yell, "Help," and another blood curdling scream.

"This way." Francis pointed at a red door down the hall and to the left. The paint was slightly chipped and there were fingernail scratches on the door. Francis grabbed the doorknob and twisted, but it didn't turn. "Stand back, _mon ami_." He took a couple steps back and rammed into the door, but this time it didn't fall apart. Francis kicked the door a few times, but it still didn't budge. "This is harder than I expected."

Arthur sighed and pushed Francis out of the way, running at the door and ramming into it as hard as he could. This time it flew open and what they saw was not what Arthur had expected. There was not an actual person; the screams had come from an old television in the middle of the room.

"I only have one question," Francis said, "how did you manage to kick down that door so easily? No wait, two questions. What is going on here?"

"Never mind the door. I want to know what's happening." Arthur walked into the room, which was empty except for the TV a small bed in the corner. There was a door on the back wall, which Francis walked over to and tried to open. This time the door wasn't locked, but the room behind it was empty.

"This is the room that I woke up in earlier," Francis said, "but there seems to be no one here."

"Yes, and I don't see any other rooms. Perhaps we should try the door across the hall. Maybe we'll find something there."

"_Oui_. That is a good idea." Francis followed Arthur into the hallway and opened the only other door. Surprisingly, it wasn't locked. They walked into the room, which was exactly the same as the other, but had no TV and no other doors in it. "No one here. We should search the next floor."

"There is no next floor, this is only a two story building," Arthur said, slightly confused.

"Oh. Well I guess we should go home then. The girl is probably fine."

"No. You dragged me into this mess and you're not going to get out that easily. We are going to find this girl whether you like it or not, so stop being such a coward and come with me." Arthur grabbed Francis's hand and drug him down the stairs and out of the building.

"My, my, _mon chérie_, I love it when you take control like that."

"Shut it, frog."

When they got out of the building, the sun was already setting. Francis and Arthur crossed the street and climbed the stairs back to Arthur's apartment. He unlocked the door and they walked in and sat on the sofa. "Maybe we should tell the police," Arthur suggested.

"Arthur, I have something to tell you. I don't want you to get mad. Promise you won't yell at me."

"Francis, what are you talking about?"

"Just promise, _se il vous plaît."_

"I promise I won't yell at you."

"Okay." Francis paused and looked at the ground. "The story I told you, it was a lie all of it. I made it up."

"Very funny, Francis."

"I am afraid I am not joking this time. I really just came up with that story on the way over here."

"You what? You made it all up? You asshat, why the bloody hell would you do something like that?" Arthur was pretty sure that he was so loud that the neighbors could hear him, but he didn't care.

"You said you wouldn't yell."

"Yeah, that was before you admitted to lying to me! What is wrong with you why would you do that?" _My God, this man is crazy._

"Because I wanted talk to you. I knew you wouldn't let me into your home unless something crazy like this happened."

"Well if none of it is true, then what actually happened to your forehead? And how did you know that the building across the street was actually abandoned?"

"I tripped while walking up your stairs and the building was a lucky guess."

"I cannot believe you! Get out of my flat!"

"But, _mon ami_–"

"No buts. I am not your friend. Get out. Now!"

"Okay." Francis got up and walked to the door. "Are you absolutely sure that I hav–"

"NOW!"

"Alright. I'm going." He stepped outside and closed the door.

_My God, what would possibly possess that man to do such a thing?_ Arthur noticed that it was nearly dinner time. He went into the kitchen and started to prepare the ingredients for beef stew. _Perhaps I was too hard on him. After all, all he wanted was to talk to me. Who am I kidding? Of course I acted rationally. Only an idiot would do something as stupid as that. Instead of making up an insane story and forcing me into a silly adventure he could've just approached me like any normal human being. Maybe I should call him and apologize. No, he is the one that should be apologizing to me._

As he finished cutting the carrots, Arthur noticed that he had angrily crushed them instead of chopping them. _Well now these are ruined. I guess I'll have to have carrot-less stew._ He dumped them into the rubbish bin and went back to chopping other various vegetables.

Arthur had just finished eating his stew, which tasted awful, as usual, when he heard a knock at the door. "It better not be that bloody frog again," Arthur muttered. He got up out of his chair and walked to the door, but instead of opening it, he looked through the peephole. Standing outside the door was no other than Francis, his long blond hair reflecting the light of the lamp hanging from the wall outside. His eye were filled with tears and just as blue as ever. Arthur unlocked the door preparing to tell Francis to scram, but he stopped mid-sentence when he realized Francis was holding flowers.

"I was hoping you would forgive me." Francis shoved the flowers, which were a mix of multicolored roses, into Arthur's hands. "I am sorry for what I did. It was wrong, and realize I caused you an unreasonable amount of trouble." He turned to walk away.

"Francis, wait. I haven't eaten dinner yet," Arthur lied. The stew was not very filling and he didn't eat much because of how bad it tasted. "Would you like to cook for me, like you offered before?" Arthur was surprised by his own sudden change of heart. _What am I doing?_

"Do you mean it?" Francis said hopefully. Arthur had to admit that Francis was pretty cute when he looked like that, sort of like a child on Christmas Eve after hearing "footsteps" on the roof.

"I suppose."

"Oh, _merci, mon ami. _I won't let you down!" Francis took a step forward and hugged Arthur.

"Calm down. I asked you to cook dinner, not marry me. Jesus."

Francis let go of Arthur, wiped his eyes with his sleeve, and immediately walked to the kitchen, opening the cupboards and pulling random items out. "_Mon dieu, _you have no suitable ingredients here. You must come over to my house where I can actually make something that won't taste like rat poison."

"No way."

"But you promised that I could cook for you. You are coming with me whether you like it or not." Francis grabbed Arthur's hand and led him out the door. Arthur tried to pull away but Francis's grip was like steel.

"Ok fine. I'll come to your house."

"It's not like you have a choice," Francis laughed.


	4. Chapter 4

Francis's house was rather extravagant for a single man, and Arthur wondered how he afforded it. Surely bartenders didn't make that much money. Francis must have noticed Arthur's incredulous stare because he said, "Beautiful isn't it? It was my father's. He was quite a rich man." So that's how Francis afforded it, but if he was living on his inherited fortune, then why did he still have a job? Arthur realized that he knew nothing about this man, yet he was blatantly waltzing into his home like they were best friends, which Francis seemed to believe was true.

"Yes, I suppose it's quite grand," Arthur replied. Francis grabbed his hand and led him through the front door and into the living room. It was bigger than Arthur's entire flat, and the furniture alone probably cost more than the entire building that his flat was in.

"This is the living room. It's probably my favorite room in the house. It's so cozy," Francis said before he pulled Arthur down the hall and into another room. "This is the kitchen, my second favorite. I'll finish giving you the tour and then come back here to make dinner." Before Arthur could even comprehend what he was seeing, Francis again grabbed his hand and led him to the dining room, which was smaller than Arthur had expected, but it was still bigger than it needed to be. In the middle sat an intricately carved table paired with equally beautiful chairs. "And this is where I eat dinner sometimes."

"What do you mean sometimes?" Arthur was surprised by his curiosity. He normally just listened to people when they talked and silently judged them. He rarely asked questions.

"Well, I usually like to sit by the fireplace and eat while I read."

"I didn't know you liked to read."

"_Oui_. Some of the best books are French but I suppose there are some good ones in English as well."

Arthur did not respond. He just let Francis grab his hand again as he led him out of the dining room and up the stairs. He followed Francis down the hallway and into a door to the right. "Here is my bedroom. My third favorite room, although I don't spend much time in here." They didn't stay long enough for Arthur to see much, but he noticed a few things, like the enormous bed, which was probably big enough for twelve people (Arthur didn't doubt that there had, at one time, probably been twelve people in that bed), and a wardrobe with the same carvings as the dining room table. Francis pulled Arthur down the hall, pointing at doors and naming rooms, but not bothering to go in them. At last, they finally made it back to the kitchen. "You wait in the dining room." Francis had finally let go of Arthur's hand, "Your presence in the kitchen will ruin the food."

"No it will not," Arthur replied, but he didn't protest when Francis grabbed his hand for the hundredth time and led him to the dining room where he sat down in one of the overly-decorated chairs.

"Just sit here and relax, _mon ami_, dinner will not take more than an hour," Francis yelled as he ran to the kitchen.

Arthur could not believe that he was here, in the home of the man who annoyed him more than anything else in the world. How did this happen? He should've just slammed the door in the frog's face the minute he saw him standing on his doorstep. Then none of this would be happening. He could be at home, drinking tea and watching _Doctor Who_. Although he did always tell himself that he needed to make friends, and this was a great opportunity, even if Francis probably wasn't the best choice. Arthur decided that he would stay for dinner and then most likely never make contact with Francis ever again after he left. However, he realized that Francis would definitely find a way to "accidentally" bump into him on the street somehow. Arthur shuttered at the fact that the rest of his life would probably be a cycle of running into Francis, yelling at him, going to his house, then leaving and hoping to never see him again. All of this would come true if Arthur didn't open up and at least try to be friendly with Francis. _So it's settled. I'll try to become friends with Francis no matter how tedious it gets._

* * *

><p>Arthur had been sitting in Francis's dining room, in the same uncomfortable chair for nearly an hour. He wondered what was taking Francis so long. He stood up to go check on him but immediately sat down when Francis burst through the kitchen doors, holding trays of something that looked like food. His hair was back in a ponytail, with a few strands escaping from it, and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. Arthur couldn't help but notice that, no matter what, Francis always managed to look attractive.<p>

Francis walked over to the table, carefully balancing the trays on his arms. He placed them on the table, where Arthur could get a better look at what was on them. The food he saw wasn't as fancy as he had been expecting, but it was still better than he could've made. He hated to admit it, but Francis was right, he was definitely a better cook than Arthur.

"Eat up_ mon ami_," Francis said as he sat down. He didn't even bother to tell Arthur what it was that he was eating. He just started shoveling the food into his mouth. Arthur looked down at the meal in front of him. It looked like some sort of potato soup, but he was sure that it was something much fancier. He was just glad Francis didn't make escargot.

Arthur picked up a spoon and slowly brought some of the soup (if you could call it that) into his mouth. He decided that this was, in fact, better than anything he could make, but it wasn't the best thing he had ever eaten.

After about ten minutes of eating in silence, Francis finally spoke. "So, _mon ami_, what caused this sudden change of heart in you? This morning you wouldn't even have considered eating dinner with me, let alone coming to my house."

"Well, you're the one who said that I didn't have any friends, and you were right. People don't tend to like me all that well."

"I like you."

Arthur blushed. He had finally gotten someone to like him, but it had to be someone like Francis. How could anyone like him, especially someone as different as Francis was? He had nothing and Francis had everything.

"Why," Arthur asked, "Why me? Out of all the people in London, why choose me?" Arthur honestly couldn't believe why anyone would want to be friends with him. "I don't understand."

"There is nothing to understand about it, _chérie_. I am unsure of why I like you myself, but there is no need to question it. I have feelings for you for whatever reason, and I have no idea what those feelings are, but I will not try to fight them."

Arthur was not sure what to say. Francis had feelings for him? What did he mean by that? Did Arthur have the same feelings? He had never had to ask himself that before because there was no one to ask it about. There had never been anyone who had liked him before, let alone willing to admit it. Arthur's face burned even more and probably looked like a tomato by now. All he could do was stare at his hands resting on his lap. He had no idea how to respond to what Francis had just said. He could feel Francis's blue eyes staring at him. At last, Arthur looked up and met his gaze. He finally spoke, his voice nearly cracking, "I… I have to go." He stood up, pushing back the chair, which made a loud screeching sound, causing him to cringe. "I'm sorry." He turned and walked quickly through the door and into the hallway, which he followed into the living room and out the front door, not looking back the entire time. Not until he got to the bottom of the stairs that led to Francis's front door, did Arthur realize he had no idea how to get home. He stood there with his back turned to Francis's house, the snow coming down around him like falling angels. With the blizzard enveloping him and the wind blowing his hair everywhere, Arthur could barely see anything. He bent over and rested his hands on his knees. _Why does he do this to me? _Francis had only known him for 24 hours, if that. How could he develop feelings for Arthur so quickly? It seemed impossible. He never believed in love at first sight, and he sure as hell wasn't going to start believing it now.

Arthur jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned around quickly to see Francis standing there, a bit too close, just like he always was. "Are you all right, _mon ami_? Do you need a ride home?" Francis sounded much more concerned than he should have, and it worried Arthur. He might have overreacted just a bit and came off as crazy or rude.

"Sorry about what just happened. That was an unnecessary overreaction. I would like to stay for dinner if you would let me." Arthur did not look at Francis. He just stared at the snow covered ground next to him.

"Of course you can stay, _chérie_, I would love that!" He grabbed Arthur's hand and dragged him back inside, seeming to have forgotten the previous incident.

* * *

><p>"Francis," Arthur said as Francis finished clearing the table, "do you ever get lonely, being the only person in this huge house?"<p>

Francis had to stop and think before answering. Yes, he did get lonely at first, but he had eventually gotten used to having nobody around. "Yes, sometimes I do get lonely. I've tried hiring maids and butlers every once in a while, but they never seem to like me."

"I can't imagine why," Arthur said sarcastically.

"Me neither." Francis apparently couldn't hear the sarcasm in Arthur's voice. "I was always nice to them. I always tried my hardest not to be a spoiled brat as a child even though my dad was rich. I always hated being waited on hand and foot." Francis sat down in the chair next to Arthur's. He had no idea why he found Arthur so attractive, but there was something about him that he just couldn't put his finger on, something that made him want to tell Arthur his whole life story, something that made it seem like Arthur would actually want to listen. Francis felt that Arthur could be trusted with all of his secrets. Or Francis could be completely wrong, and Arthur could be the worst thing to ever happen to him, but he didn't care.

"One time, when I was eleven, I think, my dad hired a professional chef. Everything she cooked was awful, and she wouldn't even let me step foot in the kitchen. I was so mad. I complained to my dad about how I loved to cook, but she wouldn't let me. He said he hired someone like that on purpose. He said cooking was for women and that I needed a more 'manly' hobby. He said that the last thing he wanted was a gay son." Francis laughed, "He'd probably be rolling over in his grave right now if he knew how I felt about you." He immediately regretted that saying that last part. Arthur's face turned red and he looked away. How could he be so stupid? Arthur obviously didn't feel the same way about him; he needed to stop mentioning it. "Because you're British, of course." _Nice save_.

"What exactly do you mean by that?" _Good, he seems offended_. Francis didn't want Arthur to think he was in love with him or something ridiculous like that. _Yeah, ridiculous. You just keep telling yourself that_.

"My dad hated British people. He would rather me be gay than friends with an Englishman. That's why he would be rolling over in his grave, not any other reason, of course." _Smooth._

"Yeah. I got that. Why did he hate British people?" Arthur seemed more curious than offended now.

"I don't know. He never explained. He just told me that they were 'insert random insult here'. It was different every time. Any time I brought home a friend and they were English, my dad freaked out and made them leave, and they never talked to or looked at me again."

"Oh. That's awful. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I had plenty of French friends, and even a couple American ones, but they were pretty annoying." Francis looked down at the carpet and pretended to focus on the intricate patterns.

"Well, if you dad hated England so much, why did he have a house here?"

Francis looked back up at Arthur, "It was actually my grandma's. After she died, he never bothered to sell it or fix it up or anything. I had to do it all myself after Dad died."

"I have to ask you something." Arthur said quietly, he seemed nervous. Francis couldn't imagine why he would be so scared.

"Yes?"

"Your dad treated you terribly, did he not?"

"Well, somewhat, yes. Why?"

"Did you still love him? Did he love you?"

"Yes, we were family. Of course we did."

"If only my family felt the same way." Arthur rested his head on his hands. "My parents hate me. My brothers hate me. Even my old dog hated me. Everyone hates me even though they're my family. What did I do wrong?"

Francis was confused. Why was Arthur all of sudden telling him all of this? Why was he suddenly opening up to him as if they were best friends? Then he remembered. Arthur had had several glasses of wine, and Francis could tell from last night that he got drunk very easily. So it _was_ just the alcohol talking. "You did nothing wrong, _mon ami_. It is their fault for not being able to see how amazing you really are."


	5. Chapter 5

**PLEASE**** READ:**

Okay before I start this chapter I wanted to call attention to an error that I made in the previous chapters. It was pointed out to me that the way I spelled chérie was incorrect and that that was the feminine version. It should really be spelled chéri. I want to apologize because I'm a stupid American, and I have no idea how to speak French, and I feel like a huge idiot now. So if you're French or speak French and notice if I make any more mistakes please let me know in the reviews. This is my first fanfiction ever and I know I'm not the best writer. I could use all the help I can get. Thank you! Carry on! (Oh and if you're British and notice that some of Arthur's vocabulary is incorrect would you please let me know as well). -Deanandsam67

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><p>"You did nothing wrong, <em>mon ami<em>. It is their fault for not being able to see how amazing you really are." Arthur could not believe what Francis had just said. Did he mean it? Arthur was taken aback by how perfect Francis was. He wanted to reach out and touch him to make sure he was real, and not a hallucination or dream. Francis was beautiful, and he was all that Arthur could have wanted. He didn't care that he was a guy, he wanted him, now. However, Arthur realized it was most likely just the alcohol in his blood convincing him that that was true, convincing him that he felt this way. He would probably wake up tomorrow morning hating Francis just as much as he did a few hours earlier. _No. I don't care. I came here to make a friend and I'm going to leave with more than that._ He grabbed Francis's arm, pulled him closer, and kissed him. To Arthur's surprise, Francis kissed him back. All of Arthur's worries and problems melted away, and everything at the moment was Francis. This is what he had wanted all along. It seemed like only a split second before Francis pushed him away.

"This is not right. You are drunk and you need rest. Come on, I'll drive you home." Francis pulled Arthur out of his chair and drug him out the door and to his car. "Get in." Francis sounded upset. Arthur didn't know why. He opened the door and swung himself into the car. Francis got in a few seconds later and started the engine. They sat in silence the rest of the way home. It was only 9:00 but it seemed like midnight to Arthur. "We're here. Get out." Why was Francis so mad all of a sudden? What did Arthur do wrong? That was all he seemed to ask himself nowadays.

"Okay." He opened the car door and got out. "See you later."

"Yeah, maybe." Francis drove off leaving Arthur to stand alone in the middle of the sidewalk, snow still falling all around. It had let up slightly from earlier, but snowflakes were still floating down everywhere. Arthur walked to the stairs up to his flat and stumbled up them, eventually managing to unlock his door. He immediately went to bed and fell asleep without undressing. _Another night spent drunk._

* * *

><p>Francis had just arrived home and closed the door behind him before shouting as loud as he could, "Why do you do this?" He wasn't sure who he was talking to in particular, but anyone would have made sense, even himself. He was glad his house was in the middle of nowhere, or else someone would have probably heard him yelling and called the cops. "What is wrong with me?"<p>

He could have easily blamed Arthur for everything. For showing up at the bar last night. For going to the supermarket. For being at home when Francis had finally worked up the courage to go there. For wanting Francis to cook him dinner. _For kissing you_. He immediately pushed the thought away. He would not blame Arthur for anything, though. This was all his fault. If he could somehow forget about how he felt, he would. He wished there was a switch in his heart to turn off all feelings, so he could just be an empty shell. But what kind of person would that make him?

He walked into the living room and threw himself down on the couch. He was facing the fireplace with the mantle taht was covered in various, old photographs of his family and friends who he had not seen in a long time. He got up and walked over to it. He picked up his favorite picture, the one of him and his mom from when he was a little kid.

"Oh _mère_, I miss you so much. If you were here, you would know exactly what to do. Why did you have to go?" Francis remembered the night that his mom died like it was yesterday. She was very sick, and being only five, Francis didn't really know how serious it was. He remembered how sunny it was on that day, June 16. It was the first sunny day in a long time, and Francis's dad believed that going for a walk would help his mom feel better. He remembered how she protested, saying she did not feel well enough. He remembered his dad forcing her out of bed. He remembered her as she fell down, not being able to stand back up. He remembered running over to her, and asking if she was okay. He remembered her last words. _Don't be afraid, chéri. heaven is just in need of another angel. _He didn't understand at the time, but now that he did, the words pricked him like a million tiny needles.

He set down the photograph and picked up another. This one was of him, his younger sister, and his father, when Francis was fifteen. They were sitting on a dock, fishing. Francis always hated fishing because he wasn't patient remembered this fishing trip but not as vividly as June 16. It was on his birthday. His dad bought him a brand new fishing pole. Francis had pretended to like it and be interested in fishing for his dad's sake, but after that day, he never went fishing again.

Now that Francis thought about it, he couldn't remember who had taken that picture. Probably one of the many women that his dad had tried to replace his mother with, but never succeeding in finding the right one. He set down the photo and decided that that was enough reminiscing for tonight. He grabbed a book off of the bookshelf, one of his favorite books in English, and sat down on the couch. He read for only an hour before falling asleep with the book still in his hand.

* * *

><p>Arthur awoke to the sun shining through his window and a headache worse than the one from yesterday morning. He could barely remember anything from the night before. Except for eating dinner at Francis's house, there was nothing else in his memory to even remind him of what had happened. He knew that there was probably something he should be regretting, but he couldn't figure out what it was. Why did he always do this? Apparently he was not capable of consuming alcohol like a normal human being; he could no longer trust himself.<p>

Arthur looked at his clock sitting on his bedside table, along with a lamp and various other items that he probably needed to get rid of. 8:56. He managed to actually wake up before noon today. He got up and walked to the bathroom, ignoring the excruciating pain in his head. He closed the door and undressed, stepping into the shower. He let the hot water fall down on him as he closed his eyes and tried to remember the events of the night before. The memories came back to him in short flashes of vivid images, like flashbacks in a movie. Arthur had no idea that it actually happened like that. He remembered almost everything up until his third glass of wine. He remembered Francis admitting that he liked him, and he remembered running out of the house, going back in, and finishing dinner, but everything after that was just a blank space. It was like his brain was nagging him to remember something, something important, but he just couldn't.

Turning off the water, Arthur stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel. He started drying his hair when he heard the doorbell ring. _Damn it. What could somebody possibly want at this hour?_ He wrapped the towel around his waist and left the bathroom. "One minute," he yelled. He walked to the door and looked through the peephole, but there was no one there. _What the? _He threw open the door and saw Francis crouched down, tying his shoe. He looked up.

"Oh, hello, _mon ami_." Francis didn't even notice that Arthur was wearing nothing but a towel. "I was wondering if you had any plans for today. I have another day off and I was going to go see that new movie that just came out. Would you join me?"

"At 9:30 in the morning?"

"_Oui_."

"Just the two of us?"

Francis nodded.

Arthur just stood and stared. Did Francis really think that they were friends now? Something really bad must have happened last night. "Sorry I can't. I have a thing." Arthur didn't feel like coming up with a better excuse.

"Oh, okay. I see." Francis seemed a bit skeptical but he just said goodbye and left. Arthur shut the door and walked into his bedroom to get dressed. He looked at his bedside table and noticed that the little piece of paper with Francis's number was still on it. If Arthur really wanted to remember what happened last night, he was going to have to ask Francis, no matter how much that idea bothered him. He grabbed the slip of paper and looked at it for a long time. Then, after thinking about it, he picked up his cell phone and dialed the number. It rang three times before Francis answered.

"Hello?"

"Hi, it's Arthur."

"Oh, _bonjour_ _mon ami_!" Francis sounded more excited than he should have.

"Hi. If you haven't left for the movie yet, I would love to take you up on that offer."

"What about your thing?"

"It can wait."

"Oh _merci_! I will come pick you up. I'll be there soon!"

"See you then."

"_Au revoir_." Francis hung up. Arthur set his phone down and continued to put his clothes on.

* * *

><p>Francis had only been a couple blocks away from Arthur's when his phone rang. After he hung up, he wondered what had caused Arthur to change his mind. He must have remembered nothing from the night before or else he probably wouldn't have even wanted to look at Francis. He turned around and started driving toward Arthur's flat, only he didn't see the truck that had just turned the corner before it was too late. The last thing Francis heard was the screech of tires on pavement, honking of horns, and a loud crash. Then everything suddenly turned into nothing. No pain, just darkness. Before being concealed by the void, blackness enveloping him, one last word escaped his lips, in barely a whisper, "Arthur."<p>

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><p><span><strong>Note:<strong>Have fun with this cliffhanger! Don't worry. I'll post the next chapter tomorrow.


	6. Chapter 6

Arthur had just finished getting dressed when he heard the sirens. _I wonder what happened. Someone was probably being stupid and ran out into the street. That seems to happen a lot more than it should these days._ Arthur went into the living room and sat on his sofa. _I'll just wait here until Francis gets here. It'll probably only be a few minutes._ He picked up a book from the coffee table, _Sherlock Holmes_. _I haven't read this in a while. _He decided he could probably read a few pages before he had to leave.

Arthur was so engaged in the story he was reading that he had not realized he had been sitting there for nearly twenty minutes already. He wondered why Francis was not there yet. _Maybe he forgot. No, Francis would not forget about something like this. He likes me too much._ Arthur put down the book, got up, and walked to the front door, looking through the peephole. He saw nothing outside, other than the street below and the building across the road. He was starting to worry. _This is ridiculous. Francis is fine, he probably stopped somewhere on the way here. Probably to buy flowers, that wanker. _

Another ten minutes passed. Ten minutes Arthur spent with a feeling of anxiety and worry in the pit of his stomach. He had to keep reminding himself that Francis was probably, no, definitely okay. _Where could he be?_ Arthur was getting more and more restless by the minute, the ticking of the clock did not help. Finally, his small grandfather clock hanging on the wall struck ten. He almost ripped it off and threw it on the ground by the fifth chime, but he just stood and stared at it, eyes slightly twitching. _Why do I still have that?_

It had already been an hour since he spoke to Francis on the phone. _What is he doing? _When he couldn't wait anymore, he threw on his coat and ran outside, down the stairs, and around the corner. He ran all the way down the block and around the next corner, and what he saw was horrifying. There were smoke clouds billowing in the cold, mid-December air, and ambulances and police cars were everywhere. Then it hit him._ Francis._ He pushed the crowds, accidentally elbowing several people, stepping on toes, and getting yelled at by many, many people. Everything seemed surreal and Arthur felt like he was gliding as he finally burst through the last of the crowd. He didn't know if it was the crumpled, completely totaled car that was definitely Francis's, or the ambulance with its sirens still on, but something caused Arthur's knees to go weak, and he crumpled to the ground, nearly passing out. _Why did he care? He didn't like Francis._ At least, that was what he told himself, he didn't like Francis and he never would, but if that was true then why was he in this state? Why was he so devastated? He shouldn't care that Francis was hurt, but he did, and it made him so bloody frustrated. He never had to deal with these feelings before because he had never really loved anyone before. Then again, he didn't love Francis, or did he? Arthur had no idea how to separate all of the mixed emotions in his chest, or how to tell the fake from the real. He flinched when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Are you okay, sir?" Arthur looked up at the woman who just spoke to him. She had one of the most beautiful faces Francis had ever seen and eyes as blue as Francis's were–are. He probably would have been nervous about speaking to such a pretty girl under different circumstances. "Did you know the man who was injured?" She also had a slight accent that was similar to France's but a little less distinct. The glare of the sun reflecting off of the woman's glasses made Arthur squint. When he did not respond she said, "I'm Lucille Bonnefoy. The man who was in the car accident is my brother."

"He never told me he had a sister." Arthur did notice that the two Bonnefoys did share many similar features. Their eyes were almost the same and their hair was the same bright blond that could be seen for miles.

"Sometimes I think he forgets. We have not spoken in a long while, since our father died, I believe. How do you know Francis?"

"We're…" Arthur paused. What were they? "We're… just acquaintances I guess. I only just met him yesterday and he was very adamant about being my friend." _Or more than that. _Arthur pushed the thought away. "He wouldn't leave me alone. I don't know what he saw in me." He finally stood up, brushing himself off, and shook the girl's hand. "I'm Arthur Kirkland. Pleasure."

"It is a pleasure indeed. I was about to go to the hospital to see if they are allowing Francis visitors. Would you like to join me?"

"Yes, of course." Arthur noticed that Lucille was very well spoken and probably smarter than Francis. Arthur followed her to a parking lot just outside of a small restaurant, where she walked over to a motorcycle parked right next to the wall. "That's yours?"

"Yes it is. Hop on, unless you're scared." Lucille swung her leg over the vehicle and put on her helmet then offered the extra one to Arthur. It was bright blue and most likely something Arthur would never even touch in any other situation.

"I'm not scared." Arthur grabbed the helmet and carefully put it on, then proceeded to climb onto the motorcycle. He barely got the chance to sit down before Lucille started the engine and sped off. He awkwardly wrapped his arms around her. Arthur had never been comfortable around strangers, let alone being this close to them, especially such a pretty one. He reminded himself that he was doing it all for Francis. _That frog better be happy to see me _he thought while clinging onto the girl in front of him for dear life.

* * *

><p>Arthur was very grateful when Lucille finally arrived at the hospital parking lot. She came to a stop right next to a big fountain that appeared to be a sculpture of some sort of weird fish. Arthur had never been to a hospital a day in his life, except for the day he was born. After that, no one in his family ever got injured so bad as to have to go to the emergency room, and no one was ever sick. Arthur should have been glad for that, but he always wondered what hospitals looked like inside, and if they actually looked like the ones on TV shows and movies.<p>

"You should see your face," Lucille said while laughing, "It looks like you've seen a ghost."

"How can you be so cheerful at a time like this? Your brother could be dying and yet your out hear laughing like a madman. I mean madwoman," Arthur corrected, "Sorry."

"Francis is fine, he is as stubborn as a mule," Lucille replied, ignoring Arthur's comment about her being mad, "just like our father. He would never let something as silly as a car wreck kill him." However, as Lucille said this, her voice started to lose its cheerfulness from earlier, and she was starting to sound more serious.

"Okay, but he could still be injured. He is not immune to that," Arthur reasoned.

"I realize that he is not going to be in perfect condition, but I know that he will live." They had finally made it to the hospital entrance and Arthur opened the door and held it for Lucille.

"I hope your right."

"I know I'm right." _She is definitely related to Francis_ Arthur thought to himself as the two walked over to the secretary.

"Hello ma'am. We're here to visit someone."

"Alright," the secretary replied, "who are you wanting to see?"

"Francis Bonnefoy. I am his sister, if that matters."

"Let me see," she said as she looked at the computer. Arthur looked at the secretary's name tag. _Elizabeta. That's a nice name_. He looked around the room taking in as much as he could. Almost everything was white, and it smelled like a disinfectant bomb had gone off. _So this is what I was missing out on, huh? Not much._ "Okay, here he is." Her face paled and she looked back up at Lucille, "Ma'am, I am so sorry."


	7. Chapter 7

**Warning: **This chapter is very dramatic, and there are also a couple swears so if you're sensitive to that, please beware.

**A Note From The Author: **I just want to thank all of you for all of your support and blah, blah, blah... All of that crap. You're probably not reading this anyway. And again, if you notice any mistakes in Arthur's vocabulary or Francis's French **please let me know. **Anyway, on with the drama! -Deanandsam67

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><p>"You're sorry? What do you mean you're sorry," Lucille shouted, and the secretary shrank back.<p>

"He's in room 13. They're allowing visitors, but only immediate family. Again, I'm so sorry."

"Stop saying that. Please," Lucille said, this time much calmer. She slowly walked away from the secretary's desk and over to Arthur. "They're only allowing family members to visit. Can you wait here?"

"Yeah, of course. Is he alright?"

Lucille did not respond, she just walked away and down the hall, disappearing around the corner.

Arthur had been waiting in the same uncomfortable chair for over an hour. He wondered what was taking so long for Lucille to come back. _I hope he's okay. That frog better not die on me._ He heard footsteps, and he turned in the chair. Lucille was walking toward him, her mascara running down her cheeks, her eyes red. _Oh no._ Arthur prepared for the worst as Lucille approached him, but all she did was look at the ground and say quietly, "Do you need a ride?"

"Yeah, that would be great," he replied. He opened his mouth to ask what happened to Francis, but he instantly closed it when he noticed that she was still crying. "Let's go." He grabbed her arm and led her to the door and out to the parking lot. They walked over to her motorcycle and got on. She started it and drove away. Arthur wrapped his arms around her again, still awkwardly. When they were a few blocks away from the hospital, Arthur realized that he had never told Lucille where he lived. He tapped her shoulder. "I live in a flat somewhere around here!"

"What!"

"I said my flat is around the next corner!"

"I can't hear you!" She kept driving and missed the turn.

"Nevermind! Where are we going," he shouted again, not expecting her to hear him.

"My place!"

"What! Why!"

"Because I need to tell you something!"

"Alright then!" Arthur was somewhat disappointed; he was looking forward to going home and having a nice cup of hot tea. He felt sort of weird going to this girl's house. She was a stranger after all, but she was Francis's sister, and he felt that he could trust her. They turned another corner, nearly falling over, and Arthur let out a high-pitched screech, causing Lucille to laugh, despite the tears still running down her cheeks.

* * *

><p>When they finally got to Lucille's house, Arthur could not be more relieved. He felt like his face was going to fall off from the wind and snow that had been blasting him in the face on the ride over. He looked up at the girl's house. It was as extravagant as Francis's, but Arthur didn't expect any less from the Bonnefoy family. He followed Lucille up the path and through front door. They walked to the living room and sat down, Arthur on the couch and Lucille on a chair across from him. "So," Arthur said, finally breaking the awkward silence, "what happened? Please tell me he's okay." <em>I couldn't deal with the guilt if he isn't. This is all my fault.<em>

"He may or may not be okay," she said, choking back a sob, "he's in a coma. The doctors cannot determine whether he will wake up or not."

"Oh my god," Arthur whispered, almost inaudible. "This is my fault. If I hadn't been so curious about…" he paused. Hadn't been curious about what?

"No. It is not your fault. I hate it when people do that. They always find excuses to blame themselves, and it's not right. It is no one's fault. Francis will be fine. I know it."

"God, I hope you're right." Arthur had finally decided that no, he did not love Francis, but having him die would probably be the worst thing to ever happen to him. Arthur had finally made a friend, and now he might never see him alive again. "So is there anything that the doctors can do?"

"No. I am afraid not. We just have to wait for him to wake up. He _will_ wake up." Lucille stood up from her chair and sat next to Arthur on the couch, a bit too close. Just like Francis, Arthur noticed that Lucille had no concept of personal space. He realized, however, that this lack of space between them was intentional. He jumped when Lucille laid her hand on his. She leant closer to him "You know, I'm starting to understand what Francis saw in you," she whispered in his ear. She quickly pulled him closer by the waist and pressed her lips to his. _Jesus Christ. What is it with the Bonnefoys_? To Arthur's surprise, he kissed her back, and before he knew it, she was on top of him. He had no idea what he was doing here, with Francis's sister, doing whatever it was that they were doing. He didn't care though, he didn't care about anything anymore. Not right now.

Arthur let Lucille unbutton his shirt, and then it hit him. He really did have no idea what he was doing. He had never been close like this to anyone before. He was glad when she finally stopped and sat up, but his heart jumped to his throat when she pulled him off of his seat and started dragging him down the hall. She threw open a door and pushed Arthur inside. The lights in the room were off, but Arthur could still make out the shape of a bed and dresser in the corner. Not until they were pressed up against the wall together did he realize what was really happening. Suddenly, he got the feeling that he shouldn't be doing this, but he had no idea how to stop. He had to stop though. This wasn't right. He finally pushed Lucille away and said, "Stop. We shouldn't be doing this. I can't… I can't do this. I'm sorry. Just take me home."

Lucille looked up at him, bouncing back into reality. "No, this is my fault. I should be the one to apologize. I'm sorry. I've never been able to deal with my feelings and emotions very well, and I guess this is how I cope."

"Well, you should find a better way handle it. Would you like to come over to my place? I can make you some tea, and we can talk about Francis's situation a bit more."

"Yes, thank you. That would be great." Lucille smiled and took Arthur's hand, this time leading him out of the bedroom. She led him down the hall and out the front door.

This time, Arthur had told Lucille where he lived before they left, and she was there in less than five minutes because of how close they lived. During this five minute ride, Arthur replayed the previous events in his minds and thinking about how badly that could have ended. He did not regret stopping himself one bit. He'd hate to have to explain what had happened to Francis. _Hey mate, remember when you were in a coma? While you were out cold, I fucked your sister. Good times. _

Lucille parked in front of Arthur's flat and got off the motorcycle, Arthur following. He led her up the stairs and into the living room. "Wait here. I'll go make us some tea."

"Alright. Thanks."

Arthur walked to the kitchen and opened the cupboard that he usually kept his tea in, but it was empty. He rummaged through several other cupboards, finding nothing. _Oh yeah. I ran out of tea yesterday and forgot to buy more._ He walked back out to the living room where he found that Lucille had picked up the copy of _Sherlock Holmes_ off the coffee table. She seemed to be awfully engrossed in the story she was reading. "That's one of my favorites," he said, causing her to look up from her book. "Oh, and I'm out of tea. Sorry."

"It is fine," Lucille replied, closing the book and setting it back on the table. "I never really fancied tea much anyway." She patted the couch beside her. "Sit down so we can talk about Francis." She looked at the ground and whispered, "Just talk."

Arthur walked from the kitchen doorway to the couch and sat down, as close as he could get without it being awkward, which wasn't very close. "So what else did they say?"

"Not much." She leaned back and closed her eyes. "I can't believe this is happening. One moment I'm on my way to the library, and the next I get a call saying my brother's in the hospital. I regret not speaking to him until it was too late." Her eyes filled with tears, which spilled over, and before Arthur knew it, she was hugging him, and crying into his shoulder. He awkwardly patted her back.

"There, there," Arthur said, trying to comfort here, which was something he had never been good at. "You're the one who said that he was going to be okay, and I believe you. Francis will wake up."

"But what if he doesn't?" Lucille had let go of Arthur. "What if he never wakes up?"

"He will." Arthur picked up the box of tissues from the coffee table and offered them to Lucille. She took one and blew her nose into it. Her sobbing had finally stopped, but tears were still falling down her cheeks. She wiped her face with another tissue and stood up to throw them in the rubbish bin.

"The doctors did say he had a better chance of surviving that not," Lucille said in a reassuring voice. "I wish they were allowing visitors beside family. I feel like you would really help him."

"I doubt it," Arthur replied.

"Why is that?"

"Because he barely knew– I mean knows me. We're barely even friends."

"I've been lying to you about something," Lucille blurted out.

"What?"

"I have been lying to you."

"I heard you. What have you been lying about?"

"About not speaking to Francis. I actually did talk to him before this, but it was only last night. Before that, he didn't even bother to try and stay in contact with me."

"So you talked to him. Why does that matter?"

"Because of what he said," Lucille replied. "Mr. Kirkland, our meeting was not coincidental. I knew who you were because Francis told me about you."

"Why? What did he say about me?"

"He told me," Lucille paused, swallowing hard, "he told me he loved you."

"What? That bloody frog! How can he possibly love me? The wanker's only known me for a day! That's impossible. He must be confused or something."

"Francis always believed in love at first sight," Lucille said. "I mean he believes in love at first sight," she corrected, "not believed."

"Even if it is true, why would he tell you? He hadn't spoken to you in how many years?"

"It has been nearly eight years since dad died, and I stopped talking to Francis. He was eighteen and I was fourteen," her eyes shone with tears again, "After my father left us," she paused and closed her eyes. "I had nowhere to go. Francis had abandoned me for college, and I was left alone. That was when I decided I would never speak to him again, even though it was not his fault. The only way I survived was because half of my father's fortune was left to me. I also inherited the casino that he owned. I could obviously never go to into it, but I made a lot of money and was able to pay the bills, so I lived alone, in that huge house. Keep in mind I was only fourteen at the time. Except for school, I scarcely left my house. When Francis came back home after two years, I only allowed him back in the house to pack his belongings and leave. I never saw him again after that. I have no idea why he decided to tell me that he loved you considering we weren't on the best of terms. I didn't know that he trusted me. Maybe he had no one else to turn to."

"Oh my God. That's terrible," Arthur responded, completely ignoring the last part. "No child should live alone. Did anyone ever wonder why you lived alone?"

"No. I told no one that I did not live with my parents or any family at all, so no one knew. I was fine with it though. It was actually quite peaceful."

"I still don't understand how Francis could love someone he met only the day before," Arthur said, changing the subject. He felt sort of awkward discussing something so personal with a stranger.

"I have never understood why Francis does the things he does or why he is the way he is, just that he falls in love very easily. His feelings pass very quickly, though, and he soon gets over it. I remember one time when he was sixteen, he brought home one of the most beautiful girls I had ever seen, saying that he was in love and that they were going to get married someday. He failed to mention that he had met her only a few hours before. They broke up two days later." Lucille laughed. "My brother is an idiot."

"It's better to be an idiot who loves too easily than an idiot who hates too easily," Arthur said, thinking of himself when he said it. "But if that's the case with me, then I don't ever want to see him again. He needs to learn that a temporary crush isn't love."

"I don't think this is a temporary crush. What he said over the phone last night was very deep, especially for Francis. Usually he just says he's in love with girls to get them into bed, but those clearly weren't his only intentions with you. He has never admitted to falling in love with another man before. I truly believe this is different."

For the first time in a while, Arthur was at a loss for words. He had no idea how to respond to that, but who would? When someone finds out that someone they met a day ago is in love with them, who would know how to react? At last he spoke, "I'm going to break his heart, aren't I?" No matter what Arthur did, he could not return the same feelings toward Francis. He liked him as a friend but only as a friend. "I will probably never be able to feel the same way about him."

"I don't think he expects you to. Sometimes when we fall in love we must not expect anything in return." There was an awkward silence before Lucille stood up and announced, "I should take my leave soon. My boyfriend is probably wondering where I am."

"You have a boyfriend? But...," Arthur thought back to earlier, when they were kissing and about to do a whole lot more, "But we…"

"I was just joking, Arthur. Don't get so freaked out," Lucille laughed, and as she left she yelled, "_Au revoir_, Mr. Kirkland!" She closed the door, and a few seconds later Arthur heard the motorcycle start, and the sound of the engine slowly faded away. Lucille was one of the most confusing human beings Arthur had ever met; one moment she was crying and saying some of the most profound shit Arthur had ever heard, and the next she was joking and riding off into the night on a motorcycle. He wondered what the real reason for here sudden departure was, but he soon realized that it didn't matter. He would probably never see her again anyway.

* * *

><p><strong>Note<strong>**:** That was quite the chapter. (PS- If you haven't caught on yet, Lucille is Monaco.)


	8. Chapter 8

**Note:** Okay, so if you haven't noticed, I changed the rating of this fic from T to M, just because I'm pretty sure something's going to happen that will make it need a Mature rating. I'm not sure what yet, but something. Anyway, if you're reading this, thank you! Carry on! -Deanandsam67

* * *

><p>A few days had passed since Arthur and Lucille's meeting, and as the days turned to weeks Arthur couldn't help but worry. He had received no phone call from anyone on Francis's condition, and dark thoughts started to make their way into his mind. <em>He's fine. Of course he's okay. Somebody would've called me if he wasn't. But what if Lucille forgot about me? What if he's dead and I have no idea? No. Francis is just fine. There is no way that he is no longer alive; someone would have told me. <em>All of these thoughts passed through his head as he paced back and forth in his living room. He told himself that he needed to calm down, but he just couldn't. He jumped when he heard the familiar ringing of the phone on the wall across the room.

Arthur ran, or more like sprinted, across the living room, jumping over the couch and landing by the ringing telephone. He grabbed it off of the wall and answered, sounding a bit out of breath.

"Hello," he panted.

"Arthur Kirkland?" The man's voice was quiet, and Arthur could barely make out what he was saying.

"Yes. Who is this?" The voice on the other end sounded unfamiliar, and Arthur got his hopes up. It was probably a doctor calling to tell him about Francis's current state. Arthur anticipated the awaiting news, but also dreaded it at the same time. This could be the best phone call of his life or the complete opposite.

"This is Dr. Williams. I'm calling regarding a Mr. Francis Bonnefoy. Do you know him?"

"Yes. Yes is he okay?" Arthur sounded more eager than he should have, but anything involving Francis made his heart jump to his throat.

"Yes he is more than okay. He has been constantly calling your name for the last few hours and I cannot get him to be quiet. He is disturbing the other patients. He says he won't stop until you come to see him."

_Sounds like Francis._ "Of course. I'll be right there," Arthur replied, immediately hanging up the phone, throwing on his coat, and darting through the door, but he realized he had no form of transportation. Lucille was probably already at the hospital so he couldn't get a ride from her, and there was no other way for him to get there but for him to run. So that's what he decided to do. He started sprinting, but when he realized he wouldn't make it to the hospital alive if he kept up that pace, he slowed down. He jogged the rest of way, regretting his choice to wear such uncomfortable shoes.

When Arthur finally got to the hospital, he burst through the doors, startling the people in the waiting room. "Sorry," he said to a shaken little girl as he walked up to the secretary's desk. The secretary was the same woman, Elizabeta, as the last time he was here. "Hello. I'm here to see Francis Bonnefoy."

She glared at him. "You must be Arthur Kirkland. Room 13."

"Thank you. Sorry again for the way I entered. I'm just a bit worked up."

"Yeah whatever. Please get to Francis as fast as you can so he'll stop whining."

Arthur walked away from the secretary desk. _So everyone in the hospital knows about Francis? That's odd. I thought that patients were supposed to have complete confidentiality in these situations. Of course Francis most likely doesn't care about that; he probably just wants attention. Stupid frog._

* * *

><p>Arthur had finally arrived at room 13, but his hand hovered over the doorknob. Did he really want to go in there? It would probably be really awkward, and Arthur hated awkward situations. However, his desire to see Francis alive overcame that feeling of hesitation. He turned the doorknob and stepped through the door.<p>

The hospital room looked just as Arthur had seen in TV shows and movies, and when he took a few steps further into the room, the doctor immediately came dashing to him. "Thank God that you're here. I couldn't take another minute of that man's whining," he said. "Come with me."

Arthur followed the man to the back of the room, where he saw Francis laying in the hospital bed, awake, with bandages all over his body. "Oh my God. You're alright!" Arthur ran over to Francis's bedside, but Francis did not respond, he just stared at Arthur with a confused look on his face. "Francis, are you alright?"

"You're Arthur?"

"Yes Francis. I'm Arthur. What do you mean?"

"I don't remember anything beyond that night at the bar when I drove you home."

"What? Then why do you keep saying my name over and over?"

"Because I was trying to remember who you are. And these painkillers aren't helping my sanity at the moment. I'm not quite right in the head right now, and I haven't been for the last few days either."

"So you don't remember anything after leaving my flat that night. I didn't think it was possible to forget anything that specifically." Arthur turned to Dr. Williams. "Is it?"

"No it isn't," The doctor replied, then he looked at Francis. "You can stop lying now."

"I wasn't lying, _ami_. I was joking,' he laughed.

"Some joke. You nearly gave me a heart attack you asshat," yelled Arthur.

"I didn't know you cared _chéri_, and you don't have to yell."

"I told you not to call me that you bloody frog. And what kind of joke was that? It wasn't funny at all. You have a twisted sense of humor. And another thing: why the bloody hell were you so careless as to get in a car accident? You could have died! And why–"

"Don't give me one of your silly lectures now," Francis interrupted. "You find out that I'm alive and you start yelling at me! _Mon Dieu_! Well you know what? Maybe I'll never speak to you again. How would you like that?"

"Fine! See what I care." Arthur turned and stomped out of the room.

"Wait. Don't leave, _mon ami_. I didn't mean it," Francis called, "I'm sorry!"

Arthur stopped at the doorway and turned around. "Fine. I'll stay! But I won't be happy about it," he pouted. He walked over to the chair next to the bed. "So you do remember everything?"

"But of course, _chéri_. There is no possible way to forget your beautiful face." Francis answered.

_Great,_ Arthur thought, ignoring the comment about his face,_ now he can tell me about what happened when I had supper at his house._ "Remember the night that I came over to your house?"

"Yes, I recall. That was the night you kissed me. You seemed to enjoy it." He winked.

"Stop joking you wanker. What really happened?"

"I'm afraid that's the truth." Francis put his hands behind his head. "Do you really not remember?_ Mon Dieu, mon ami_, how intoxicated were you?"

"I must have been pretty drunk if I kissed you," Arthur replied, finally accepting the fact that he actually had kissed him. It seemed like something that he would do when drunk.

"But do not worry. I immediately pushed you away. I knew you weren't sober."

"Yeah thanks for that. You're such a hero. What happened after, though?"

"Nothing. I drove you home."

"Okay." There was an awkward silence that lasted longer than it should have when Arthur finally blurted out, "I met Lucille."

"My sister? She was here?"

"Yes, she visited you, but we met earlier at the place of the car accident. She came over to my flat and we talked about your... um... situation." Arthur willingly left out the detail of his visit to Lucille's house. "She told me about how you called her, the night before your accident, and she told me about everything you said." He didn't want to say anything too specific because Dr. Williams was still there, and he had no idea what the man would think.

"Oh," was all that Francis said. He looked at the ground by Arthur's feet. "She told you _everything_?"

"Well, she told me enough." He swallowed hard. _This is it. This is when I break his heart. I don't know if I can take it._ "Francis," Arthur started. Francis looked back up at Arthur, his blue eyes sparkling and full of hope, _Damn it. I hate it when he does that, _even though Arthur had only seen Francis make that face once before.

"Yes, _mon ami_?"

"I…," Arthur began, but he had no idea what to say. _I don't love you? Can we just be friends?_ None of those sounded like the right thing to say. He finally decided on, "I know how you feel about me, and I wanted to say that I'm sorry. I don't feel the same way, and I probably never will." _That was a bit harsh._ "I think you should just forget about me." He got up to leave but was shocked when he felt a tug on his arm. He looked down and notice that Francis had grabbed his hand.

"How could I possibly forget about you?" Arthur noticed that Francis was crying. _How could I be so cruel?_ "How could I possibly forget you," he repeated. _How could I do this to him?_

But Arthur just tugged his arm away from Francis. "I should go," he said. He turned and walked out of the room. _I will not let that bloody frog make me feel guilty._

* * *

><p>Francis sat in the hospital bed, the awfully uncomfortable and itchy hospital bed. He was supposed to be resting, doctor's orders, but his previous encounter with Arthur left him awake. He was barely even able to blink. He silently thanked God that Dr. Williams didn't think anything of the conversation that they had.<p>

Francis looked out the window, the snow still falling. That's all it seemed to do anymore. He didn't care, though; he thought snow was beautiful and romantic. He loved to watch it float down, with light reflecting off of the flakes, looking like a million falling stars.

All Francis could think about was Arthur. He couldn't get his face, his eyes, his voice, his… everything out of his mind. _Why the hell do I love him so much? _He loved everything about this man despite only knowing him for a couple days. _Why do I do this to myself?_ It didn't make any sense. Francis had never found himself falling for someone this quickly before. _There's no one to blame but myself._

Francis could no longer stay awake. He closed his eyes and slowly drifted off. _I'm such a fool._


	9. Chapter 9

Arthur unlocked the door to his flat and stepped inside, slamming the door shut behind him. He leaned against it, and slowly sank to the ground. He sat there for nearly two hours, thinking about what had just happened. He knew it was going to be an uncomfortable situation, but he had no idea that it would be that dreadful. Maybe he was being overdramatic about this; maybe he was making it a bigger deal than it should be. Sure, he had loved people who didn't love him back before, and it hurt like hell, but he lived with it, and he was usually over it pretty quickly.

However, someone else loved him this time, and he unfortunately didn't love them back. It felt strange to be on the other side for a change. He realized, though, that he had never told the other person that he _did _love them, and they remained blissfully unaware of his feelings for them.

Arthur had no idea if Francis got over these kind of things quickly, or if he even got over them at all. It made him feel terrible the way he turned Francis down like that, but there was nothing he could do about it.

Arthur was just now realizing that it was nearly three o'clock and he hadn't eaten all day. He had no food in the house, besides leftover stew from the night before, but there was no way he was eating that again. Realizing this, he decided to take a quick trip to the grocery store, and maybe buy some more tea while he was there as well. He was about to put on his coat when he heard the wall phone ringing the same annoying ring. _I need a cellphone._ Arthur grabbed it off the wall and brought it to his ear.

"Hello," he heard a mildly familiar voice on the other line say.

"Hello. Who is this," Arthur responded.

"This is Dr. Williams. I was there when you came to visit Francis."

"Ah, yes. I remember you. Is something wrong?" Arthur felt dread start to grow in his chest. He knew that Francis still wasn't all the way better, and anything could happen.

"Well, not exactly. Francis is refusing to cooperate. We keep trying to get him to eat, sleep, and take medication, but he won't. We tried to get ahold of his sister, but she seems to have disappeared."

Arthur stood in shock, not knowing how to respond. He didn't know if he was more worried about Francis or the fact that Lucille "disappeared."

"Sir, are you alright?" Dr. Williams's voice brought Arthur back to reality.

"Yep. I'm just dandy." Arthur was mad at himself for sounding so bitter. It wasn't the doctor's fault. "Sorry. What did you want me to do about it?" Again, he had a harsh tone, which he, again, admonished himself for.

"We were hoping you would try to convince him to at least eat something. He seems to listen to you. His body's becoming weak, and he won't be able to get well if he doesn't get food in his system soon."

"Okay, I'll be right there." Arthur put the phone back on the wall and continued to put his coat on. He ran out the door, and it crossed his mind that he should visit Lucille to see if she was okay. He ran all the way to her house and knocked on her door. He was still out of breath when she opened the door. "Oh good," he panted, "You're okay." He turned and ran back down her stairs, hearing her shouts as he went.

"What do you mean? Of course I'm okay! Arthur, what happened?"

"Nevermind, see you later!" He waved without turning around and continued to jog all the way to the hospital. He was glad he remembered to wear better shoes this time.

* * *

><p>Arthur burst through the doors of the hospital for the second time that day, again, scaring the people in the waiting room and receiving a death stare from Elizabeta. He apologized as he ran to Room 13, but he slowed himself down, remembering he was in a place where it was socially unacceptable to run. Right as he got to the door, preparing to throw it open, someone else beat him to it. He looked up, and Dr. Williams was standing there. Arthur stepped back and said, "Hello um… sir. Is Francis in there?"<p>

"Yes. I'm glad you're here. Follow me."

Arthur walked behind Dr. Williams to the back of the room, where he saw Francis laying in the same hospital bed as earlier, but he looked in worse shape than before. He had dark circles under his eyes, and his skin was pale. His hair seemed to have lost its glow, and Francis altogether looked like a mess. _But he looked just fine a few hours ago. What happened?_ He was about to ask Dr. Williams when Francis tore his gaze from the window, and upon seeing Arthur, smiled and said, "Hello _chéri_, nice to see you again!" Despite looking as ragged as he did, Francis's charm still remained intact, which annoyed Arthur. _Why is he so happy when he looks like a bloody funeral? _

"Hello," was all that Arthur said. He then turned to Dr. Williams. "So he's not eating or anything," he asked quietly, not wanting Francis to hear him.

"No," the doctor responded, "he's just been staring out of the window ever since you left. He won't even talk to me, but he seems pretty happy to see you, so I'll let you two talk." He turned to exit. "Please try to help him." He left, but Arthur heard no other footsteps outside after he closed the door. He figured that he was waiting right by the door, not wanting to actually leave them alone.

"Francis, mate. You alright?" Arthur slowly walked over to Francis, and sat down in the chair next to him. "Are you hungry? I'll go get you something to eat." He got up, but his hand was immediately grabbed by Francis, a touch he had gotten used to by now.

Francis looked up at him, and Arthur noticed that his blue eyes, which once shone so brightly, were now dull. Arthur couldn't help but notice that they almost resembled a lightbulb that has been slowly flickering away, about to die, with no one willing to replace it. It broke his heart. "Arthur look." He pointed out the window, snowflakes still falling. "The snowflakes are falling, just like I fell for you. Isn't it beautiful, _chéri_?"

That was when Arthur decided that Francis was either on some sort of medication that made him all loopy, or he had truly lost his mind. "Yes it is quite a pretty sight." He sighed and repeated his previous question, "Francis, are you alright?" Arthur was starting to worry. He forced himself to believe that Francis was like this because of the medicine he was taking. It hit him like a brick in the face when he remembered that Dr. Williams said Francis had refused to take any. _So he is going bonkers, but how does someone manage to lose their mind within a matter of hours? He seemed fine earlier._

"_Mon ami, _I have never been better, now that you're here." Francis smiled, breaking Arthur's heart for the second time that day. They were still holding each other's hands, and when Arthur noticed, he blushed and let go. _No, this is not happening. We're just friends._ But he couldn't help the shiver that crept up his arm as Francis grabbed his hand again.

"Please don't go, _chéri_," Francis said, panic rising in his voice, and he had that look again, the one that Arthur hated so much. The one that made Francis look like a puppy at an animal shelter, hoping to finally have someone take him home. However, this time his eyes were dimmer, and it nearly brought Arthur to tears. _Why am I here? Why me? Why did he choose me? Out of everyone in London, he just had to pick me didn't he? This stupid, bloody frog. _

"I'm not going to leave, Francis, but I will if you don't eat something." Arthur stood up again, "I'll go get you some food."

"Fine. I'll eat, but I'm doing it for you, not me." With that, Arthur turned and walked away, eyes filling with tears, but he was not willing to let them fall. The thought crept into his mind again. _This is my fault. This is all my fault._ He opened the door, and he was right about Dr. Williams not leaving. He was leaning against the wall across from the door and looked up when he heard Arthur step out.

"Did you make any progress?"

"Yes. He agreed to eat something, but I'm afraid he won't let me leave." _I'll never get out of here._

"Don't worry about that. Do you know where the cafeteria is?"

"No, sorry."

"No problem, follow me." Dr. Williams turned and led Arthur down the hall.

**_~A few hours earlier~_**

"I should go."

Francis watched as Arthur walked away from him. _What if I never see him again?_ The thought was too hard to handle. "Don't go," he whispered, but Arthur was too far away to hear him. He stared at the chair that Arthur was just sitting in, and he felt his heart sink. Arthur was gone, and he would probably not come back for a while.

"You should get some rest," Dr. Williams said, breaking Francis out of his reverie. "I'll leave you alone."

Francis ignored him and turned his attention back to the window. He always loved watching the snowflakes fall. It was one of his favorite childhood memories. He loved waking up to a freshly fallen blanket and hearing that school was closed. His mom would always make him and Lucille hot chocolate, and he would sit by the window for hours, watching the beautiful flakes slowly drift down to the ground. Lucille always begged him to play in the snow, but he refused, saying he didn't want to mess it up or make it look ugly. He had no idea how he remembered that; he was only eight at the time, which was around eighteen years ago.

Those eighteen years flew by, filled with anger and regret, and led to this moment: the moment that Francis was truly losing his mind. It was like he could feel reality slowly slipping away, but he didn't care. The only thing keeping him on solid ground at the moment was Arthur, and if he left, then Francis might as well be gone too.

Francis had to remind himself that he couldn't keep going on with this. If he didn't let Arthur go, he would surely spiral into insanity, but if he actually did let go of Arthur he would have nothing to keep him from losing his mind. He hated himself so much for falling in love so easily. Why was he like this? He wouldn't wish this on the worst of his enemies because it hurt. It just hurt so fucking bad, and there was nothing he could do about it. He didn't have the strength to stop himself from falling in love. He didn't have the willpower. He felt hopeless, like a wilted rose that's lost all of its petals, leaving only the thorns.

If there was one thing that Francis hated, it was being useless. He hated being trapped here, in this hospital bed, with no one but himself, which was his worst fear. One can only spend so much time in their own thoughts before they go completely nuts, and Francis's time was running out. He needed someone else, preferably Arthur, right now.

Francis broke his gaze from the window when he heard Dr. Williams step quietly open the door, probably there to check on the patient in the bed adjacent to his.

The other patient was in the hospital for a situation similar to Francis's, but he hadn't woke up. Many visitors had come and gone, and Francis picked up a little bit of information about him. His name was Feliciano Vargas. He had a brother named Lovino, and his best friend's name was Ludwig. One time, when Francis was supposed to be sleeping, Ludwig had come by himself to visit Feliciano. Francis pretended to be asleep, and from what he heard, he could deduce that the Italian was much more than a friend to Ludwig.

Francis looked over at the small, sleeping man lying in the other bed. He looked so peaceful, and Francis wondered what he was dreaming about. He prayed for that adorable Italian man every night, not wanting Ludwig to go through what Francis had experienced too many times. He figured that Feliciano was young, around nineteen, way too young to be there.

The world worked in a cruel way, but Francis didn't have to accept that. He could spend as much time in his own little dreamland as he wanted, but he didn't, he couldn't, not when Arthur was still in the real world. Not when Arthur still had to experience that cruelty.

Francis had to be strong for Arthur; he had to be strong for Lucille. He would not abandon her again. He regretted his decision to leave her alone, and not a single day went by where he did not think about that choice he made, the choice that probably ruined her life.

That was it. Francis couldn't be alone with himself anymore. He was going to drive himself mad. He was about to call for a nurse when Dr. Williams walked over to him.

"You should be sleeping."

"I couldn't," was all that Francis felt like saying. He continued to stare out the window.

"Well since you're awake, it's time to take your medicine." He went into the smaller room connected to the one they were in. He was back a few moments later, holding Francis's all too familiar medication. _No, I won't do this anymore._ The doctor handed the pills and a cup of water to Francis, expecting him to swallow them, but Francis just held them, unmoving, while still staring out the window. "Will these make me sleep?" Francis looked at Dr. Williams.

"Yes," Dr. Williams replied, thinking that was what Francis wanted.

"Well then I don't want them." Francis looked back out the window and threw the pills on the ground. "When I said I couldn't sleep, I meant that I didn't want to."

"Why don't you want to sleep? Francis, what's wrong?"

"I don't want to see them." Francis's eyes were glazed over and filled with tears.

"You don't want to see who?" Dr. Williams sat down next to him. "Francis, I need you to tell me. Who are you seeing?"

"Them." Francis closed his eyes. "Every time I close my eyes, I see them. I see all the people that I have failed, all the ones who hate me. My sister, my father, Arthur. They all hate me and it's all my fault."

"Francis, I know for a fact that Arthur doesn't hate you, and your sister does not either. She visited you nearly every day before you woke up. Trust me, no one hates you as much as you believe they do. Now, please go to sleep. You need rest."

"I will try."

"Good," he responded. He got up and left the room, quietly closing the door behind him.

But Francis didn't try to sleep. He just continued to stare out the window at the falling flakes. He thought it was ironic that something so beautiful could be gone so quickly, melting away and disappearing. _Just like me_.

Francis continued looking out of that same window, thinking about everything there was to think about, slowly surrendering himself to the darkness of his own mind. However, he snapped out of his musing when he heard voices at the door, followed by footsteps. He turned and saw that Arthur was standing there, along with Dr. Williams. His heart jumped to his throat. He couldn't believe that Arthur had come back. "Hello, _chéri_, nice to see you again!"


	10. Chapter 10

**~Now~**

Arthur didn't know what Francis wanted to eat, or if he actually would eat anything, so he grabbed whatever it was that they were serving; he had no idea if it was even food. He knew that Francis would probably complain about how terrible it was, but Arthur decided that he would force it down his throat if he had to. He was going to make Francis eat this one way or another, whether it be willingly or not.

When Arthur stepped into the hospital room, he noticed Francis was still staring out the window. He walked over to him and lightly tapped his shoulder. "Francis, I got you some food, well, you know, if you could call it that."

Francis turned around to look at Arthur, "Oh, _bonjour, mon ami_. What took you so long? I thought you weren't coming back." He looked down at the "food" in Arthur's hand. "Do you really expect me to eat that?"

"Yes, I do. And you will." Arthur handed the bowl of whatever to Francis. "Eat."

Francis grabbed the bowl from Arthur, looked at it, and then whispered, "I'm scared."

"Oh come on. A bit of…" Arthur looked at it. _What is that? _ "Casserole, I think, never killed anyone. It can't be that bad."

"This is coming from the man who can't even make cereal properly."

"I make amazing cereal, wanker. Now eat."

"Fine, anything for you, _chéri_." He took a bite, and Arthur could tell by the look on his face that he regretted it. "_Mon Dieu_, this tastes like garbage. You British people call this food? I'd rather eat the mud off of the bottom of my shoe than this monstrosity. Casserole, more like _ass_erole. Get it?"

"Yes Francis, I get it." Arthur didn't take kindly to his pun. "I don't care how bad it tastes, you are going to eat it."

"Eat it? I wouldn't even feed this to my hypothetical dog."

"Don't make me stuff it down your throat, because I will if I have to."

"My, my, _chéri_. Anything else in mind that you would be willing to stuff down my throat? If you know what I mean." Francis laughed his signature laugh, the laugh that made Arthur want to punch him in the face.

"You insufferable pervert! Just shut up and eat your bloody casserole before I stab you with that fork."

"No, I will not. I refuse."

"Yes, you will."

"_Non_."

"Francis, you are going to eat that casserole or so help me God, I will–" Arthur never got to say what he would do to Francis, because Francis had unexpectedly pulled Arthur over to him and pressed his lips to his. He was completely taken by surprise, and was momentarily flustered for only a short moment before he pulled himself away from the other man.

"What the hell was that for, you wanker," he exclaimed. "You can't just kiss people whenever you want, you frog!"

"But _chéri_, you are just adorable when you're angry. How could I resist?"

Arthur couldn't think of anything to say. He could feel his face burning, and he probably looked like a tomato right now. He was just now realizing that Dr. Williams was nowhere to be found, which Arthur was grateful for, but he still wondered where the quiet man had gone to.

Arthur decided it was probably a good idea to forget about what Francis had just done, he was pretty emotionally unstable at the moment. He quickly changed the subject. "Francis, where's the doctor?"

"I've been here the whole time. Sorry for not telling you."

Arthur quickly turned around, his face probably burning a whole shade darker now. He saw Dr. Williams standing in the corner, but Arthur could've sworn he wasn't there a minute ago. "Oh bloody hell," what all that managed to escape from Arthur's lips.

"Honhonhon. It looks like we had an audience," Francis laughed, and Arthur, again, wanted to punch him in the face. He probably would have if they weren't in a hospital, and Francis wasn't slightly insane.

"Shut up."

"Sorry," Dr. Williams said quietly, "I can sometimes seem invisible to certain people."

"Don't apologize. Francis should be apologizing." Arthur turned to Francis, and when he saw the look on his face, he had to restrain himself from strangling that stupid Frenchman. "You can't just randomly kiss people, especially while other people are watching. Were you born in a barn?"

"No, how dare you accuse me of being born in such a filthy place."

"It's just an expression you asshat."

"Don't be so rude."

"Rude? Don't get me started who's the rude one. I'm not the one who starts snogging people mid-sentence."

Francis gasped. "Don't you dare say that word."

"What word. Snogging?"

"Yes, I cannot stand that word."

"Well, too bad. Snogging, snogging, snogging, snogging, snogging, snogging, snogging!"

"You shut your mouth right now!"

"Or what?"

"Or I'll kiss you again!"

"You wouldn't dare!"

"Oh yes I would!"

"Guys, please stop fighting!" It was Dr. Williams. He had finally spoken up. "You two sound like a couple of two-year-olds. Can we please start acting like adults?" He turned to Arthur. "I know you're upset that he kissed you, but that doesn't give you the right to yell. There are people trying to sleep, and I will not have you waking my patients." He then turned to Francis. "And you, I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to side with Arthur on this one. You can't just kiss people when you want them to shut up."

"Ha," Arthur spat.

"Don't interrupt. I wasn't finished. You two need to stop your fighting. It will not help Francis get any better. Your constant bickering is disrupting the other patients, and I will not allow it. Now make up before I kick both of you out."

"You can't kick me out. This is a hospital, and I am a patient," Francis said.

"Thank you, captain obvious," Arthur replied. "I had no idea where we were until you said that."

"You know, _chéri_, I would like you a whole lot more if you weren't so sarcastic all the time."

"I didn't think it was possible for you to like me more than you already did." Arthur had finally stopped yelling when he noticed that his words seemed to make Francis flinch.

"I didn't either, but apparently there's still a lot about you that I hate."

"Like what?"

"Oh, you know, maybe the fact that you're always yelling at me, and it's always sarcastically. You know I'm French. You know I don't understand sarcasm."

"Actually I didn't know that," Arthur had to remember that for their future conversations. "Well what else do you hate?"

"I hate how you always call me a frog and a wanker. And asshat. What does that even mean?"

"I actually have no idea what they mean."

"And I hate how, no matter how much I love you, you don't love me back."

Arthur did not respond to that. Did Francis really love him that much? _But we've only known each other for a few weeks, and for the majority of those, he was in a coma._ Arthur had no idea what to say, so he just sat and stared at the ground, aware that both Francis and Dr. Williams were looking at him. His face was probably the same temperature as the sun by now.

"I… I mean….." Francis started, but he never finished his sentence.

Arthur stayed silent, maybe soon enough someone would say something, and break the awkward atmosphere.

* * *

><p>"And I hate how, no matter how much I love you, you don't love me back." Francis couldn't believe it; he could not believe that he just let those words slip out of his mouth. He had promised himself that he would not burden Arthur with his feelings, but he had told him anyway. He had never wanted to throw himself off a cliff as much in his life as he did right now. How could he say that? "I… I mean…." There was no way he could smooth talk his way out of this one. He had let his guard down, and now Arthur probably felt terrible. Francis had told himself over and over that he would never let Arthur know how he actually felt, but he had, and now it seemed like the whole world was crashing down around him. He waited for Arthur to respond, to say anything, but he didn't. Francis had no idea how to interpret this silence. Was Arthur shocked? Was he thinking of something to say? Francis couldn't take it any longer. After what seemed like hours of no sound, he finally spoke.<p>

"I am sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

"No, it's fine," Arthur replied without looking at Francis. "I have to go. I have… I have a thing."

"You always say that you have a thing. What is this thing?"

"I don't really know, just a thing."

"Well if you don't actually have to go, then stay, because I cannot stand being left without you for even one minute. It drives me insane to sit here alone with only my own mind to keep me company."

"Francis, I–," Arthur started, but he was interrupted by knocking on the door.

"I'll get it." Dr. Williams said, and both Francis and Arthur jumped because they had forgotten he was there. He left and was back in a moment with two men, who appeared to be around Francis's age.

"Gilbert? Antonio? What are you two doing here," Francis asked. He couldn't believe that his two best friends from college had remembered him after all these years.

* * *

><p>"Who are they?" Arthur was now standing a couple yards away from Francis's bed, not wanting to arouse suspicion about their relationship from the two strangers.<p>

"Ah, Arthur meet Gilbert and Antonio. They were my two best friends in college. Gilbert and Toni, meet Arthur. He's my… um… friend." Francis smiled and looked back and forth between them. "I can't believe you came to visit me. How did you know I was here?"

After everyone had shaken hands and gotten acquainted, Antonio explained, "Actually, I'm here to visit the other guy." He turned to Feliciano. "His brother, Lovino, is my special little tomato."

"Tomato?" Gilbert laughed. "Is that what you're calling him now?"

"Yes, don't judge me. Anyway, Gilbert is here because Feliciano's 'special friend', Ludwig, is his younger brother. So I guess it's a pretty small world."

"Yeah, what a coincidence." Arthur had finally spoken up. "Anyway, why did you say 'special friend' in such a weird way?"

"Because," Antonio started, "Feliciano and Ludwig are way more than friends, but no one wants to admit it."

"So, is everyone here, except me, a flaming homosexual," Asked Gilbert, changing the subject, and catching Arthur completely off guard.

"No! I'm straight," Arthur exclaimed, his face even redder than it was after Francis kissed him.

"You just keep telling yourself that, _chéri_," Francis replied, then laughed.

"You shut your mouth, Frog!"

"Aww. They're just like a married couple," Antonio said.

"We are not!"

Gilbert laughed. "Someone's in denial."

"Guys, please stop. Arthur and I are just friends, although I have no idea how he resists my charm," Francis said while still laughing.

"Oh come on. I can tell when two people are in love. I mean, look at Ludwig and Feliciano. They are so in love, but Feliciano is too stupid and innocent to realize it." Antonio walked over to Arthur and put his hand on his shoulder, "I can see it in your eyes, amigo."

"There is nothing in my eyes to see, wanker. Now get your hand off of my shoulder before I rip it off." Arthur glared at Antonio until he removed his hand and walked back over to Gilbert.

"Anyway, we should get going. Gilbert wants to flirt with the secretary. Adios." Antonio waved and left, with Gilbert following.

"Bye, _mes amis. _Come visit again soon," Francis yelled then turned to Arthur, "So, what do you think of my friends?"

"I think they're a bunch of arseholes, but if they're your friends then I suppose I can tolerate them," Arthur replied, and he walked over to sit in the bedside chair again.

"Good. I had no idea that they knew Feliciano. It really is a small world isn't it?"

"Yes I suppose it is quite small, I mean, compared to other planets, Earth is tiny."

"Now you're the one taking things to seriously. Anyway, I'm glad it's small, because if the world was any bigger, then I may not have met you, _chéri_."

"How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?"

"As many times as you want because it's never going to happen," Francis smiled. "_Chéri_."

"I hate you." But Arthur could not keep a straight face. He smiled and Francis's grin grew even bigger. "Stop smiling, you asshat. You look so stupid."

"I can't. You make me so happy."

"You're such a sap," Arthur scoffed. "Anyway, it's getting late. I should go."

"Okay, I won't force you to stay."

"Alright then. Goodnight." Arthur stood up and walked toward the door.

"_Bonne nuit, mon ami_," Francis called as Arthur left.


	11. Chapter 11

When Arthur finally arrived at his flat, he was exhausted. Arguing with Francis did take quite a toll on his energy, and all he wanted to do was fall into bed and pass out. However, when he finally undressed and got into bed, he quickly realized that there was no way he was going to fall asleep, not after everything that had just happened. All he could think about was the way that Francis had kissed him so abruptly, without even thinking about it. Francis's impulsiveness annoyed Arthur. How could he remain friends with him if all Francis wanted to do was make out all the time? What bothered Arthur even more was the fact that he sort of enjoyed the kiss. He hated to admit it, but Francis was a great kisser, even if he was a guy.

Arthur hated himself so much for feeling this way. He wasn't supposed to be falling in love with Francis, but he couldn't help it. Francis's charm was slowly starting to work its way into Arthur's system. He was just so confused by what was going on his head versus what was happening in his heart. They just wouldn't sync together no matter how hard he tried. His mind told him that he shouldn't be in love with another man, but his heart screamed, "Screw it!"

All Arthur knew for sure at the moment was that it was way too early for him to be in bed. He looked at the clock. It was only 7:13. No wonder he couldn't sleep. Getting up, he decided a nice cup of tea would help him relax. He wandered out to the kitchen, the sudden bright light of the lamp nearly blinding him. He stumbled to the cupboard, and immediately remembered that he didn't have any tea at the moment, so he decided he would have to make a quick trip to the market down the block. He didn't want to leave his flat, but he was desperate for something to drink, other than water or the half empty whisky bottle he had stashed in the back of the cupboard. He would not be getting drunk tonight, so he quickly dressed and threw on his coat and shoes, and he was out the door, into the bitter air that seemed to hang around all year in Arthur's neighborhood.

It was still snowing when Arthur descended the steps down onto the sidewalk, which surprised him. It almost never snowed this much in London. Maybe it was a sign or something. He walked slowly so he could appreciate the beauty of the freshly fallen snow, but he remembered what Francis had said. There was something about the look on his face when he said it. _"The snowflakes are falling, just like I fell for you." _Arthur had no idea what was going through Francis's mind when he said that, but it broke his heart. Francis's eyes were the most disturbing thing about it, though. They seemed to show no emotion when he said it, but his voice was filled with warmth and love, and Arthur wondered just how broken Francis was. When his friends were there, though, he seemed to be just fine. Either Francis was really good at hiding his emotions, or he had gotten over it very quickly. It worried Arthur that Francis didn't want him to see how he was really feeling. Arthur could help Francis get better, but if that's not what Francis wanted, then what did he want? Arthur couldn't stand all of these mixed emotions flying around in his head. He wanted to scream.

Arthur turned the corner and eventually made his way to the little market that he had been to so many times before. He pushed the door open and stepped in. The friendly atmosphere was almost enough to make him feel completely relaxed. He wandered over to where the tea was and grabbed several boxes. He decided that tea was all he wanted to buy, and he just wanted to get home as quick as he could. He made his way to the cashier and quickly purchased the tea. He was about to leave, but he could've sworn he heard someone calling his name. He quickly spun around when he heard someone shout, "Arthur, amigo, what are you doing here?" _Oh bollocks._ He did not have the patience to deal with Antonio right now.

"Hello, Antonio," Arthur responded, surprised by his own cheeriness.

Antonio had finally caught up to Arthur at the entrance of the market. "Hola! What a coincidence that I would find you here. Gilbert finally scored a date with that secretary from the hospital. I don't know what they're up to right now, but I wouldn't want to know anyway. I decided to come here to pass the time by browsing through the weird food items that you have here in England. By the way, what on Earth is spotted dick?"

"I have no idea, nor do I care." Arthur was glad Antonio had finally stopped talking.

"It sounds like a good time. Want me to buy a can so we can find out? We can share it."

"No, thanks. I'm good," Arthur responded. He was getting uncomfortable here, talking with a stranger who had no idea that Arthur saw him as a stranger. All Arthur wanted was to go home and drink his tea. Was that so much to ask?

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I am one hundred percent sure that I don't want to eat something called spotted dick."

"Okay, suit yourself," Antonio sighed, looking somewhat disappointed.

"Anyway, I should be going, I have a few episodes of _Doctor Who_ that I need to catch up on."

"I love that show!" Antonio smiled, and his emerald green eyes lit up. His expression eerily resembled Francis when he had that hopeful look. Arthur hated how everything seemed to remind him of Francis. He just couldn't get the frog out of his mind, and it was driving him insane.

"Yeah, me too," Arthur replied. "Well, bye." He turned to leave, but Antonio followed him. What was Arthur going to have to do to get rid of this annoying Spaniard?

"Would you mind if I came over and watched it with you? I have nothing to do because Gilbert's on a date and Lovino is pissed off at me. Please," Antonio begged.

"What makes you think I'm not busy," Arthur replied. There was no way he was allowing this messy-haired kid into his flat. Even if he was friends with Francis, he was still a stranger to Arthur.

"I don't know. Maybe the fact that you just said you were going home to watch TV, alone."

"Good point, but I really just want to be alone tonight."

"Okay, that's fine. Adios." Antonio waved then turned and walked the other way.

_He is such an odd man_. Arthur shrugged it off and headed home, snowflakes still slowly drifting down.

Arthur continued walking, slowly at first, but he sped up when the cold had finally crept beneath his clothes and all over his skin. He couldn't wait to get home, make tea, and warm himself up.

When Arthur had finally gotten home, he could not be more grateful for the warmth of his sofa. He turned on the television and changed the channel. Nothing was more relaxing and familiar to Arthur than the _Doctor Who _theme song. While it was playing, he got up to make himself some tea. He put the kettle on the burner and turned the stove on, watching the flame come to life.

When his tea was finally done, he poured it into a cup and sat back down, and continued to watch the show. He let the world of space and time and aliens completely surround him until he was no longer aware of what was happening around him. He was broken out of his daze when he heard a knock on the door. _Oh great. It's probably Antonio. I don't have time for this._ He got up and walked to the door. Looking through the peephole, he noticed a green eye staring right back at him. Good thing it was a one-way peephole. _Bloody hell, what does he want._ Arthur flung the door open, preparing to yell at Antonio and tell him to leave him alone. What he did not count on was seeing his older brother, hair redder than a robin's chest and eyes bright green, standing on his doorstep.

"Allistor, what the bloody hell are you doing here?"

* * *

><p>Francis watched as Arthur walked away for the second time that day, and once again, it made his heart sink. He didn't want Arthur to leave, but he didn't want to force him to stay. Besides, it was getting late, and visitors weren't allowed past 8:00. He just felt so empty when he was alone, he hated himself for never feeling complete without Arthur. If only Francis could convince himself that Arthur was the problem, not the solution, his mental health would probably improve a great deal. But Arthur wasn't the problem, was he? Francis had no idea if he loved Arthur, or he just loved the idea of being in love. He had been thinking about it a lot lately, and he came to the conclusion that he had fallen head-over-heels for Arthur at first, as did he with all of his crushes, but now he wasn't sure if he could continue this. It was torture to him, and he knew that Arthur couldn't be enjoying it either. But what if he actually was in love with Arthur, and what if Arthur loved him back? Francis knew that Arthur told him he thought of him as just a friend, but what if he was lying? Arthur could just as well be as confused about his feelings as Francis was. Arthur just did a whole lot better at hiding his feelings than Francis did. Arthur covered up his love with insults and "frogs" and "asshats," but Francis had straight out confessed his love to him, like in a cheesy romance novel.<p>

Sometimes Francis wished he could go back in time to the night he and Arthur had met, at that bar that Francis hadn't been to in forever. He wished that he could somehow stop himself from even talking to Arthur in the first place, but then he snapped out of it. Why would he want to forget Arthur? While Arthur was one of the worst things to happen to Francis, he was also one of the greatest people he had ever had the pleasure to meet.

Francis wondered if the other employees at the bar worried about where he was. _Probably not. They hated me. _Francis had worked in a gay bar, but somehow he still received horrible nicknames, most were derogatory terms that he did not appreciate. Every once in a while, a group of obviously heterosexual men would come in just to cause trouble. A couple were even rumored to have committed murder because they couldn't let go of their unnecessary prejudices. Francis had no place in his heart for homophobic people. In his mind, they were just jealous losers who don't appreciate the idea of love. To Francis, all love was beautiful, no matter who it was. That's how he was raised, and that's what he believed. He also believed that no one should think any different.

Francis hadn't realized that the snow had finally let up just a bit, and he was glad. Staring at the falling flakes for too long made him dizzy, even if it was one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen. All he wanted now was to sleep, but every time he closed his eyes, he saw Arthur. Attempting to forget about Arthur was futile, so he turned over and watched Feliciano's chest rise up and down, supported only by the machine he was plugged into. He wondered if the little guy was dreaming about something nice, like a world in which he could be with Ludwig. Suddenly, Francis was jealous of Feliciano. He got to be asleep and away from the cruelty of the world; Francis was stuck there, awake and in pain.

Francis knew that there was a way that he could end the pain, end it all in fact, but he would never go there, not without Arthur.

* * *

><p><strong>Note:<strong>If you didn't know already, Allistor is Scotland.


	12. Chapter 12

"Allistor, what are you doing here?" Arthur could not believe what he was seeing. He had not seen his brother in over six years, and he didn't think he would ever see him again, but here he was, standing on Arthur's doorstep.

"Hello little brother," Allistor responded, not answering Arthur's question.

"I asked you a question. Why are you here?"

"Oh you know," Allistor said casually, "I was in the neighborhood, and I thought I would give my baby brother a visit, just like old times."

"Since when have you ever been 'in the neighborhood'?" Arthur had no desire to be seeing his brother right now. "I thought you were in Scotland."

"What, I can't take a little trip to England to see ya."

"There is no way you came here to see me. You hate me."

"Hate ya? You're my favorite brother." Allistor shivered, and Arthur realized that it was below freezing outside, and his brother had no coat on.

"Why don't you come inside? Then you can tell me why you're actually here."

"Okay, thanks."

Arthur let Allistor through the door and led him to the living room, where he immediately sat down on the sofa. "Hey lad, make me a cup of tea, will ya?"

"You know, there's such a thing as saying please, and you can make you own tea if you want it so bad." Arthur was really starting to get annoyed with his brother and his unexpected arrival.

"I don't want it enough to make it myself."

"Well then you don't get any."

"That's fine. Anyway, what have ya been up to, sonny?"

"Don't call me sonny. And I've been doing stuff."

"Oh, really, sounds interesting," Allistor responded, only half paying attention. Arthur noticed that he seemed to be somewhat distracted.

"What's wrong," Arthur asked. He didn't really care, but he really wanted to know why his brother had shown up at his house this late.

"Ya have a strange way of decorating," Allistor replied and continued looking around the room.

It was true; Arthur did manage to scare quite a few people away with his many strange ornaments and knickknacks that he had laying around. Many of them had to do with his love for mythical creatures. Others were his random black-magic related objects. It was usually the pentagram he had drawn on the floor of his living room that made people run away.

"Don't pretend that your house doesn't look the same," Arthur retorted. Allistor was also into mystical and magical elements like Arthur although Alistor's interests were much darker.

"That's the thing lad. I don't have a house anymore."

"What! What do you mean you don't have a house anymore?"

"It is actually quite self-explanatory. I used to have a house, and now I don't," Allistor replied.

"I know what you mean, wanker. What happened to your house?"

"It went up in flames. There was nothing left of it," Allistor said with a blank expression. "I lost everything. Molly didn't make it out in time. All that I found of her was her collar." Molly was the family's dog that Allistor took with him when he left to go to Scotland.

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's not your problem. Anyway, that's why I'm here. Got nowhere else to go." Allistor put his feet up on the coffee table, which annoyed Arthur more than it should have.

"Don't just think you can stay here and be a freeloader. Why don't you go bother Alfred?" Alfred was Arthur and Alistor's younger brother.

"Because I can't afford to fly to America, and I hate Alfred more than you do."

"Wait, when did he move to America," Arthur asked, completely shocked. He knew that Alfred was prone to doing crazy things, but he never saw him doing something that insane.

"About a year ago. No one told you?"

"No. Not that I care. Though I am glad he's no longer within driving distance." But Arthur couldn't deny that he did feel a little bit sad deep down, very deep down.

There was an awkward silence for a while, then Allistor spoke. "So, Artie, how are ya?"

"I'm alright. I guess." Arthur decided that his annoying brother would most likely not leave for a while, so it was probably a good idea to try to get along with him.

"You meet anyone special yet?"

"Special? What do you mean?"

"Like a woman. Meet a woman yet?"

"No. Not yet," Arthur sighed, and he thought about Francis. "Not a woman, anyway."

"A man? You're in love with a guy, aren't ya? I always knew that out of all of us, one would turn out to be like you." Allistor laughed his annoying laugh, the laugh that made Arthur want to kick him in several unsavory places.

"What? No! I'm not in love with a guy, and I am not gay! Why does everyone keep assuming that?" Arthur really did not want to be talking about this with his idiot of a brother, who he had tried to forget for a reason.

"Maybe because it's obvious, lad."

"What exactly do you mean by that?"

"The way you sighed and said 'not a woman, anyway'," Allistor imitated. "Who else would you love? A child. I know for a fact that you are not a pedophile, Artie."

Arthur just glared at him.

"You're not a pedophile, are ya?"

"No! I'm not a pedophile, and I'm not gay!"

"Okay, whatever you say. Now would ya quit yellin'?"

"I'm not yelling," Arthur nearly shouted. "Okay maybe I am yelling, but it's really hard not to. You're driving me mad."

"How can one be driven mad when they were already crazy in the first place?" Allistor smiled and Arthur could've sworn he would've strangled him if he didn't hear a knock on the door. He immediately turned his attention to getting to the door as quickly as he could. Something had finally broken the tensional atmosphere between the two siblings. However, when Arthur had thrown the door open, he wished he hadn't. Antonio was there, along with a disgruntle-looking man, who Arthur assumed was Lovino.

"Hola, Arthur. I'm glad you're still awake!" Antonio smiled, like always, and Lovino stood behind him, scowling. Arthur had only known Antonio for a few hours, and he hadn't known Lovino at all, but he could already tell that they were complete opposites. "This is Lovino." He grabbed the other man's hand and pulled him forward.

"Hi," Lovino mumbled, then turned to Antonio, "You bastard! You said we were going out to dinner, not to some strange bastard's house."

"We'll get to the restaurant eventually, I just wanted you to meet my friend, Arthur." _We're not friends_ Arthur wanted to shout, but he didn't. Antonio was only trying to be nice, and he got the impression that yelling at Antonio would make Lovino angrier. Arthur didn't want to do that.

"And, why, exactly, was that?" Lovino glared at Arthur, making him uncomfortable.

"Because I think he's cool. Anyway, I'm also here because I need to talk to him. Privately."

Lovino stood and looked back and forth between them for a while, then said, "Fine, I'll wait in the car, but if you're not back in five minutes, I'm leaving without you." Lovino turned and walked down the stairs.

"What did you want to tell me?"

"Hey Artie! Who's at the door," Arthur heard Allistor yell.

"Do you have company," Antonio asked while trying to see behind Arthur.

"No it's just my brother. It's fine," Arthur replied. "It's no one," he yelled back at Allistor.

"I didn't know you had a brother!" Antonio somewhat resembled a puppy when he was excited, which was almost all the time.

"Most of the time I wish I didn't. Anyway, what did you need to tell me? And why did it have to be in private?"

"Oh it actually doesn't matter whether it's private or not. Lovino seemed to be frightening you, so I wanted to get rid of him."

"I wasn't… He wasn't scaring me," Arthur responded.

"Don't be silly. Lovino scares everybody. Except me, of course. Anyway, what I wanted to tell you was–," Antonio was cut off mid-sentence by a car horn and various shouts from Lovino.

"You bastard, hurry up!"

"I'll be there in a minute my precious little tomato!"

"Call me that again and I'm driving away!"

"Sorry, sweetheart! Anyway," Antonio continued, "what I was trying to say was–," but he was cut off again because Allistor had come to the door to see what was going on.

"Arthur what's going on?" Allistor stood at the doorway and looked at Antonio. "Is this the guy you're in love with? I'm impressed. Ya have good taste, Artie."

"No! How many times do I have to tell you that I am not in love with a man? This is Antonio. He's just my… friend."

"Why'd ya hesitate?" Allistor was such an idiot. He probably thought he was so funny, but he wasn't.

"Because I only met this man a few hours ago."

"Yep. We met at the hospital," Antonio explained.

"When were ya at the hospital," Allistor asked.

"I was visiting someone. It's none of your business anyway." Arthur looked at Antonio, who was still smiling. "What did you need to tell me?"

"I just wanted to tell you that Feliciano finally woke up. It was a huge surprise to everyone. He immediately became best friends with Francis, who told him all about you. He wants you to come by again so he can meet you. Don't disappoint him."

There was another abrupt honk and Antonio yelled, "I'm coming, I'm coming."

"You better be, you bastard, or you won't be saying that again for quite some time!"

"Dios mío, Lovino. You always say such inappropriate things!" Antonio laughed and looked back at Arthur. "Anyway, it was nice seeing you again, Arthur, and it was nice meeting you Arthur's brother. Adios!" Antonio turned and jogged down the stairs and to his car. The engine started, and they drove off into the night.

"Those two are quite the characters," Allistor said, breaking the silence. "Are all of your friends so obviously gay, or are they the only two."

"Stuff it. I'm not in the mood right now, Scottie."

"Ya haven't called me that in years."

"I know." Arthur pushed past Allistor and walked back to the living room, his brother followed.

"Listen, Arthur. I don't have anywhere to stay tonight, and I was wonderin', would ya mind if I crashed on your couch? Just for one night. Promise I'll be gone tomorrow."

"Sure, whatever." Arthur was too tired to argue anymore. He had decided that he would start looking for a job tomorrow, right after he visited Francis and Feliciano. His rent was due next week, and he barely had enough money left to pay it.

"Thanks, lad."

"Please don't call me lad."

"Sorry, lad." Allistor smiled and threw himself onto the sofa. "G'Night, lad."

"Goodnight." Arthur walked to his bedroom, ignoring the "lads," undressed, and went to bed. He was glad he could finally manage to fall asleep for once.


	13. Chapter 13

**Note: **Hey guys, sorry I haven't posted a chapter in a while. I've been busy with school and homework so I probably won't be able to post a new chapter every day, but I'll try to update as often as I can. Again, thanks for your support! -Fruktheworld-99. (Btw, if you haven't noticed, I changed my username)

* * *

><p>Arthur woke up to the smell of something burning. Confused, he sat up and looked at the clock. It was 8:34, much later than he wanted to be up. He got up to see where the terrible smell was coming from, but he soon remembered that Allistor had stayed the night. <em>Is he really making breakfast?<em> Arthur knew that he himself was a bad cook, but Allistor's cooking was even worse. He got dressed and opened his bedroom door, walking down the hall, through the living room, and into the kitchen.

When Arthur stepped over the threshold into the kitchen, he noticed Allistor was doing something with an egg. "What are you doing?"

Allistor turned around. "I thought I'd make breakfast," he explained, then went back to his egg. "Oh, and that Spanish lad stopped by again earlier. He left ya this." He walked over to the little table in the corner and grabbed something off of it. Allistor was blocking Arthur's view of what it was that he grabbed, and when he walked back over, he had the thing hidden behind his back.

"Who's this Francis girl?"

"What?" Arthur's face immediately paled, then started to heat up and turn red.

"Who's Francis?"

"_He_ is my friend." Arthur was trying to see behind Allistor's back, but he kept positioning himself between Arthur and whatever it was that he was holding.

"Ah so he's a guy, is he?" Allistor was starting to irritate Arthur yet again. The resemblance between Allistor and Alfred personality wise were shocking. They were both arrogant and… what was the word? Ah, yes, wankers.

"Yes he is a guy," Arthur replied. "Although I will admit it does sound like a girl's name. But why does it matter?"

"Ya said you were friends, no?"

"Yes, we are friends. Why?"

"Ya know that red roses are symbols of love, right," Allistor said, then smiled. Arthur couldn't help but notice how much his brother looked like a fox when he had that stupid expression plastered on his face.

"What are you blabbering on about? And what's behind your back?" He moved again to figure out what Allistor was holding but again failed. He couldn't take it anymore. He grabbed Allistor so he couldn't move and reached around him to grab the mysterious object. When he finally recomposed himself, he looked at what he was holding: A single red rose with a small paper note attached to it. He flipped the paper over to the side with writing on it. It was unmistakably Francis's handwriting. It was small and slanted cursive and somewhat feminine, which was probably why Allistor thought Francis was a girl. Well, that and the fact that Francis was also a girl's name.

Arthur began reading the note. It started out with Francis telling Arthur how much he loved him, which wasn't anything new, but the long confession soon turned darker than Arthur expected. With every word he read, he could feel his heart shattering. He could imagine Francis's pain while writing this, writing all the words he was too afraid to say. He couldn't believe that he was here, reading something so personal, in front of Allistor. He felt his eyes fill with tears, and then he felt them fall.

"Arthur. Are ya okay?"

Arthur looked up at Allistor after finally finishing the note. Then he looked back down at the rose and realized that the thorns had pricked his hands, and he was bleeding.

"Here let me help ya with that," Allistor said, but when he reached out to take Arthur's hands, he pulled them away.

"No. I'm fine." He walked to the living room and started to put on his coat. "I'm going out. I don't know when I'll be back." Arthur stepped out the door, note and rose still in his hand, with blood as red as the petals still dripping out of the small cuts in his hands.

"Alright, see ya later," Allistor called, but Arthur ignored him.

* * *

><p><strong>~The night before~<strong>

Francis had been lying in bed for an hour, thinking, nothing else. Besides the steady beeping of the life support machine attached to Feliciano, everything was silent. He thought about nearly everything. From his favorite love songs to the way Arthur's hair looked like it was sparkling when it reflected the light in just the right way. This wasn't a bad way to spend his last day at the hospital. The doctor's had told him that he would be able to go home tomorrow if he felt up to it, but Francis didn't know if he wanted to leave or not. He had made so many friends here, but he did need to get on with his life.

He didn't even realized how tired he was until now. He closed his eyes, but jerked them open when he heard footsteps, then the sound of the door opening. He looked to see who had just entered and relaxed when he saw Dr. Williams who had come in to check up on Feliciano.

"Hey, Dr. Williams, what time is it?"

The doctor looked at his watch. "9:14."

"_Merci._"

"No problem. Try to get some rest so you can go home tomorrow."

"Of course." Francis looked out the window, and this time there were no snowflakes falling. He turned back to the doctor. "Do you think Feliciano will ever wake up?"

"Yes. Of course I do. Now go to sleep, Francis," he replied while stepping into the hallway, closing the door behind him. Francis looked out the window again. The view itself wasn't all too pleasant. Just the average London buildings, streetlamps, and occasionally someone would walk by, usually holding the hand of someone else.

Francis didn't feel like thinking anymore though, so he closed his eyes and slowly drifted off.

* * *

><p>Francis awoke when the sun had barely just broke off from the horizon. He figured it was probably somewhere around four in the morning. He rolled over to face away from the window and tried to go back to sleep, but he was interrupted by quiet muttering. He could barely make out what the voice was saying but he knew it was coming from Feliciano's bed.<p>

"Ve. Ludwig," Feliciano whispered.

Francis was surprised. Could people talk in their sleep when they were in a coma? He didn't think they could. When he saw a small movement over by Feliciano, he knew that the Italian had finally woken up. The small man sat up then looked at Francis. "Ludwig?"

"No. Sorry."

"What happened? Where's Ludwig? Where are Lovi and Toni?" Feliciano's eyes started to tear up.

"They're at home. You're in the hospital. You got in a car accident. You were in a coma for several weeks, but you're better now so it's okay."

"Who are you? Are you an angel? You're pretty enough to be one!" He smiled. Francis had only known this young man for a few minutes and he already knew they were going to be good friends.

"No. I'm Francis. I was also in a car accident. I think Lovino and Antonio will be visiting soon. You know, they came to visit almost every day when you were out."

"Really? And Ludwig too?" His smile grew even bigger.

"Yeah, he was here quite a bit." Francis smiled back. Feliciano was adorable, like a hopeful child.

"Do you know what time it is?"

"I don't have a watch and there's no clock in here, but by the position of the sun, I think it is somewhere around four."

"Ve. You're smart."

"Not really. Wait until you meet my friend Arthur. He is one of the smartest men I have ever met."

"Will he visit you soon?"

"No. I'm going home today."

"Why do you have to go so soon? You're nice. I like you?"

"Don't worry. I'll come back. Now you should get some rest. You don't want to be tired when your friends get here do you?"

"No. But I've been asleep for weeks. I'm not tired."

"Okay. Do what you want. I need my beauty sleep." Francis turned to face the window and closed his eyes. It was a huge relief that Feliciano had woken up. He knew it wasn't his problem, but it would've hurt him to see such a good man die so young.

* * *

><p>Francis woke again about an hour later to various voices and joyful laughter. He turned around and saw that Antonio and Lovino were at Feliciano's bedside. Even Lovino seemed happy, and Francis couldn't help but smile as well. Antonio looked over, and upon noticing that Francis was awake, yelled, "Francis, nice of you to join us!"<p>

"I think it's nice of Feliciano to finally join us." He laughed along with everyone else but Lovino who just sat there, smiling and looking relieved.

Francis realized that he would be leaving the hospital in a few hours, but Arthur had no idea that he was going home. He got a sudden idea. "Hey Antonio. Do you think you can find me a piece of paper and a pen?"

"Sure, amigo. What for?"

"I need to write something."

"Okay." Antonio left the room and was back a few moments later. "I borrowed these from Elizabeta, so I'll need the pen back. By the way, apparently she and Gilbert hit it off. They're going on another date tonight."

"Ve. Who's Elizabeta?"

"The secretary," Lovino replied. He was no longer smiling, but he still had the same look of relief on his face.

"Oh."

Antonio handed the paper to Francis, who immediately started writing.

_Arthur,_

_I know that you don't love me. I know that you never will. I also know that you know how I feel about you. I just love you so much and I don't know what to do about it. I have never loved anyone so much in my life. I do not know why I love you so much, and it confuses the hell out of me. Why you? I have no idea. All I know is that I can't get my mind off of you. Whenever I'm trying to sleep, I think of you. Whenever I'm see couples holding hands or kissing, I think of you. Whenever I'm trying to convince myself that I actually have a reason to live, I think of you. You're the only thing that's keeping me here on this cruel planet. You're the only one who I care about enough to stay for. I hate to put such a burden on you, but it's true, and I need you to know that. I'm leaving the hospital today, and hopefully I'll have enough self-control to keep from sending myself back here. I realize that after you finish reading this, you'll be worried about me, but don't be. I'll be fine at home. Whatever you do next is your choice._

_With love,  
><em>_Francis_

He folded the piece of paper and motioned for Antonio to come over to him. He put the note in his hand and whispered in his ear what to with it.

"Si. I can do that." He smiled his beautiful smile and walked back over to Lovino and Feliciano. "I'll be right back guys." He waved and exited the room.

Francis wasn't quite sure about what he had just written. He did it on a whim, and he couldn't take it back now. All he could do was wait until the doctor came in and told him he could go home.


	14. Chapter 14

Arthur made his way to the hospital, hoping that Francis hadn't left yet. He was not going to let him get away with this. How could Francis do this to him? Arthur knew he was being selfish, but he didn't care. He couldn't keep doing this. He was pretty sure this was borderline emotional abuse, and he wouldn't let Francis do this to him anymore.

He burst through the hospital waiting room doors and didn't stop even when people tried to ask him if he was okay. Of course he wasn't okay. His hands were bleeding, and he was quite sure he was about to have an emotional breakdown.

He threw open the door to room 13, and wasn't surprised that Francis was gone, but he didn't expect the kid to be awake.

"Ve. Are you Arthur?"

Arthur nodded.

The kid–_What's his name again? Oh yeah Feliciano_– smiled. "If you're here to see Francis, he went home."

"Alright," Arthur responded. "Well, I need to talk to him so I guess I'll see you later."

"Adios," Antonio called as Arthur turned and quickly walked out of the building.

He made his way back to the sidewalk and remembered he still had the note and the rose in his hand, and he was still bleeding. The small amount of pain in his hand was nothing compared to what he felt in his chest right now. He marched all the way back to his flat, and was actually relieved that Allistor was still there.

"I need you to drive me somewhere," He said, causing Allistor to jump and turn around.

"Ya weren't gone very long."

"Nevermind that. I need you to drive me somewhere," he repeated.

"I heard ya the first time. Where do ya need to go?"

Arthur told him the address of Francis's house, and they were soon out the door and on their way.

Allistor's car was a mess, considering he was probably living in it for the past few days. There was garbage scattered on the floors and several personal effects in the back seats. Arthur was desperate for a ride, though, so it didn't bother him.

Since Francis didn't live too far away, they were there in less than ten minutes. Allistor barely had time to stop the car before Arthur threw the door open, grabbed the rose and attached note, and stepped out of the car, quickly making his way up the steps to Francis's front door.

He reached to ring the doorbell, but hesitated. What was he going to say, and how would he say it without sounding like a complete jerk. "How dare you love me?" "Stop loving me?" None of those were appropriate, so Arthur rang the doorbell and decided he would say whatever came out of his mouth.

The door opened just a few moments later, and Francis stood there, looking shocked.

"Why are you so surprised, frog? Did you expect me to not tell you off after you left me this?" He showed the note to Francis, still attached to the rose.

"I see you got my note," Francis responded, then gasped. "_Mon ami_, you are bleeding. I will help you with that." Francis reached to grab Arthur's hand. An act that he had done so many times, but this time it triggered something in Arthur. Something bad… or good. Arthur didn't know what it was, and he didn't really care anymore. He grabbed Francis's wrist and pulled him closer, into a kiss that even Arthur wasn't expecting. He had never been spontaneous like this, and he had to admit that he liked this side of himself.

Arthur could imagine Allistor sitting in the car right now, congratulating himself on being right the entire time. The idea of his brother watching him kiss Francis disturbed Arthur, so he pushed Francis back inside the house, closing the door behind him, all while keeping his lips pressed to Francis's.

The two stayed like that for what seemed like years to Arthur. When they finally broke apart, still holding each other, Francis didn't have anything perverted to say like he usually did. He just stood there with an incredulous expression.

"What?"

"What was that," Francis responded.

"Payback." Arthur smiled

Francis, for once, had nothing to say, so he and Arthur just stood in silence, hugging. It wasn't an awkward silence like Arthur was used to, but a silence that was probably for the better. However, Arthur was grateful when Francis spoke.

"Really, what was that about?"

Arthur finally let go of Francis. "I don't really know. I guess the note you wrote scared me. I originally came here to yell at you, but then I realized that I didn't want to lose you."

"You'll never lose me, _mon amour_. I don't know what caused you to change your mind, but I love it."

"I wish I knew," Arthur responded. He had no idea what caused him to do this. It could have been the fact that he wasn't emotionally stable at the moment. Yeah, that was probably it. Or he was actually falling for Francis, which Arthur didn't want to believe to be true.

"It doesn't matter _chéri_. As long as we're together." Francis grabbed Arthur's tie, pulled him close, and kissed him again. Arthur did not protest, but he wasn't so sure about this now that he thought about it. Was he doing this because it was what he wanted, or because he felt kind of bad for Francis? He realized that if he really didn't want this, he wouldn't be doing it, so it was okay. Right?

Arthur's mind wandered back to the note and what was written in it. _"You're the only thing that's keeping me here on this cruel planet."_ What did Francis mean by that? Was he really considering... No. He wouldn't. Arthur wouldn't even let himself think about it. However, he decided he should stay around Francis for a while to make sure he was okay.

When they separated, Francis suddenly blurted out, "We must visit Feliciano. I forgot. He wanted to meet you!"

Francis's sudden statement made Arthur jump. "I went to the hospital for a minute before I came here," he replied. "I didn't say much to him though."

"Well, what are you waiting for? let's go!" Francis grabbed Arthur's non-injured hand and pulled him out the door. Arthur wasn't surprised to find that Allistor was gone.

"Of course he left. Wanker," Arthur muttered.

"Who was that in the car earlier," Francis asked.

"Just my brother," Arthur replied.

"I didn't know you had a brother."

"You don't know a lot of things about me."

"That is true."

They got into Francis's car and drove off to the hospital.

* * *

><p>When Francis and Arthur walked through the door of the hospital room, they were still holding hands. Antonio was the first to notice the two, promptly shouting, "Hello amigos!"<p>

"Shh, Antonio. People are trying to sleep," Gilbert shushed him, but he seem too serious. He had arrived a few minutes before Francis and Arthur, along with Ludwig, who was sitting by Feliciano, holding his hand.

"_Bonjour_," Francis replied with a smile.

"Hello." Arthur nodded in the general direction of all his friends.

"Ve. You guys came. Now everyone's here. I'm so happy." Feliciano smiled his childlike smile, and Arthur wondered how old the man was.

"Well, everybody but Elizabeta," Gilbert said with a frown.

"Where is she," asked Antonio. "You've been talking about her ever since you two met. Your unusual silence is worrying me."

"She dumped–I mean–I dumped her. She wasn't awesome enough for the awesome Gilbert." He sighed. "But now I'm single again. Maybe a cute doctor will show up soon."

And just on cue, Dr. Williams stepped in. "Speaking of cute doctors," Gilbert muttered to himself.

"Sorry to bother you," Dr. Williams said, obviously not hearing Gilberts comment, "but I need to check up on how Feliciano is doing and give him his medicine." He walked over to the bed and Ludwig let go of Feliciano's hand to get out of the way. Everyone remained silent until the doctor left, sighs of relief let out as he closed the door.

"I'm so glad he didn't hear that," Gilbert said, breaking the silence. Everyone laughed, Feliciano the loudest. Ludwig sat back down beside him and held his hand again.

"Ve. Arthur, when I talked to Francis, he told me you were the smartest man he had ever met. Are you really that smart?"

Arthur looked at Francis, whose face had turned red. "Did he really?"

Feliciano nodded.

"I guess I am rather intelligent. I'm not a genius though," Arthur replied.

"Don't be so modest, _chéri_. I've been in your flat before; I saw you're bookshelves. You really are smart."

Arthur blushed. No one had ever called him smart before. "Thank you."

For the rest of visiting hours, the seven friends shared their stories. Some sad, some happy. Some were a bit personal, and sometimes made everyone uncomfortable, but Arthur was glad he had met all of these wonderful people. He finally felt that he belonged. He finally had friends.

The kiss from a few hours earlier seemed like a dream to Arthur, but he shoved the thought to the back of his mind. He didn't want to think about that right now. His feelings were too complicated to deal with at the moment. All he wanted to do right now was have a good time with these strangers who had become his friends in a matter of days.

The world seemed perfect to Arthur at the moment, and he felt like nothing could ever go wrong. However, he knew from past experience to never trust this feeling because everything that goes up must come down. This day would not last forever. Arthur would eventually have to confront Francis about their previous display of affection, and how it was more of a heat-of-the-moment sort of thing. Arthur had no idea how to explain what he had done, but it had been done, and there was no taking it back.

He perked up when he heard his name.

"So, Arthur, do you have any siblings," Feliciano asked.

It took Arthur a moment to realize that he had been asked a question. "Yeah, I have quite a few brothers." He had no idea how the conversation drifted to this topic, but he wanted to change it quickly. He had never felt comfortable talking about his brothers to other people, especially people he had only known for a couple days, and some for only a few hours.

"Oh, cool! I wish I had another brother," Feliciano replied.

"What's wrong with the one you have, bastard," Romano exclaimed.

"Lovi calm down, you'll scare him. And Feli, you do have another brother, remember? His name is Romeo," Antonio stated.

"Oh yeah. I don't get to see him much," Feliciano looked sad again, and everyone immediately started to try to cheer him up.

"So Arthur, what are your brothers' names," Ludwig asked, trying to distract Feliciano to prevent him from crying. This was the first time that Arthur had actually spoke to Ludwig, and Arthur had to admit that he was pretty intimidating. He wondered how someone as big as Ludwig ended up with Feliciano, who could look like a child at times.

"I don't really like to talk about them," was all that Arthur felt like saying.

"Do you have a girlfriend," Feliciano asked, suddenly not sad anymore. _Does this kid even have an attention span?_

"What?" Arthur was caught off guard by this question. "No. I don't. I'm not really dating anyone at the moment, and I'm not interested in anyone at the moment." He looked at Francis, who looked like someone had slapped him.

"But… _chéri_," Francis whispered. "What was that about earlier, then?" Francis had raised his voice.

"Francis can we not talk about this right now?" Arthur motioned to everyone sitting around them. He did not want the news of their kiss to get out for several reasons. One, Gilbert would never let him hear the end of it. Two, he couldn't predict how Feliciano would react. And three, it was just plain embarrassing.

"Well then when _are_ we going to talk about it?"

"Talk about what," Antonio interrupted. _Great, they heard us._

"Nothing. None of your business," Arthur snapped.

"Dios mío, you don't have to be so rude." He walked over to Lovino and sat down in the chair next to him.

"Arthur? Francis? Are you okay? Please don't be mad. It makes me sad when people are angry at each other," Feliciano said, and, as usual, started to tear up.

"Don't cry, you bastard," Lovino responded, which only resulted in more sobs from Feliciano.

"I think Feli needs rest. You should all go," Ludwig stated. "I'll stay with him to make sure he'll be okay."

"Don't you dare even think of it, potato bastard, I'll stay with him. He's my brother. Now get out." Lovino was apparently very protective over Feliciano. Arthur wished his brothers had cared about him that much.

"But I don't want Ludwig to go." Feliciano started crying even harder.

"Fine, but I'm staying as well, and if the potato bastard even looks at you I'll chop his hands off."

"Lovi! No! Please don't chop Luddy's hands off!"

"I wasn't serious, you moron. Now go to sleep."

"Ve. Okay." Feliciano laid back down and closed his eyes. He was out like a light in not even two minutes.

Francis stood up and held out his hand to Arthur. "Come on _mon ami._ You're coming over to my house. We're going to talk about what happened."

Arthur opened his mouth to protest, but closed it when he realized that he probably should try to sort things out with Francis. He hesitantly grabbed Francis's hand and stood up. They walked out of the room, letting go of each other's hands before stepping through the door.

* * *

><p><strong>Note: <strong>By the way, Romeo is Seborga, a micro-nation who is Italy and Romano's younger brother. He never actually got a human name, so I looked at a few suggestions from other fans.


	15. Chapter 15

Francis pushed Arthur through his front door much too roughly. "Watch it, frog," Arthur shouted.

"Sit," Francis said, ignoring Arthur's protests.

Arthur made his way to Francis's living room sofa and sat down, Francis following.

"What did you want to talk about," Arthur asked, knowing the answer but not wanting to start the conversation.

"You know full well what it is that I want to talk about," Francis replied, anger rising in his voice.

"Francis, if I could take back what I did, I would. I have no idea what came over me. I guess I was just confused at the time."

"I see. So it didn't mean anything to you? Is that what you're saying?"

"No... No that's not what I meant. I just… I can't do this anymore."

"What do you mean by 'this'?"

"Whatever it is that we've been doing. It's gone on too long."

"You keep acting like this is my fault. Trust me, Arthur, if I could somehow not love you, I would. Do you think I enjoy this? Not a day goes by that I don't think of you, and how you will never love me, and I am okay with that. It drives me insane, but I won't force my feelings on you."

Arthur sat without sat in silence for a moment, not knowing how to respond. After thinking about it, he started, "Francis." Francis was looking at the ground. "Francis look at me." Francis looked up. His eyes were glistening with tears, reflecting the light from the lit fireplace. "I think you need to forget about me."

Francis closed his eyes. "No. I can't." He opened his eyes. "I won't. I don't want to forget about you."

"I think it would be for the best…" Arthur sighed. "If I left, and never came back."

"No. You just got here. I won't let you leave."

"You can't force me to stay." Arthur stood up and started toward the door, but something tugged on his arm. He looked back and saw Francis grabbing his wrist.

"Please don't do this, _chéri_. I don't want to lose you. I need you. _Je te aime._" Francis was crying now. Arthur tried to get rid of the slight guilt that he felt.

You always do this." He struggled out of Francis's grip. "You say you won't force your feelings on me, but them you guilt me into staying. Francis, you can't do this. Promise me you won't say you love me anymore, and I won't leave."

"I…" Francis looked at the ground. "I…," he repeated.

"Francis, promise me. Promise me that you won't ever let the words 'I love you' come out of your mouth again."

"I…," Francis started, but all he did was keep staring at the same spot on the floor.

"Goodbye, Francis." Arthur turned and walked to the front door. "It was nice knowing you. Do yourself a favor and forget about me. Goodnight." He stepped outside.

"_Bonne nuit, mon amour_."

Arthur closed the door.

Arthur didn't know what to do next. He had no way of getting home, and he had no idea how. So he stood on Francis's porch, leaning against the door. He knew he had been too cruel with Francis, but that was the only way. He wanted to go back inside, to apologize to Francis, to tell him he didn't mean it, but he didn't. He remained on the porch, leaning on the door.

It hurt to have to leave Francis like this, but Arthur told himself that it was for the better, and it would be worth it in the long run. Sure the pain was immense right now, but he would eventually move on. He straightened himself out and walked down the long staircase to the sidewalk. He tried to look for anything that was familiar to help him find his way back home. After failing to find anything that he recognized, he walked in a random direction, praying that it was the right way to go.

Arthur finally made his way to the part of town where the scattered buildings became closer to each other, and everything became vaguely familiar, but he still had no idea of his specific location.

"Arthur, what are you doing," he heard someone shout. He turned and saw a car pull up behind him. Driving the car was Gilbert, and in the passenger seat was Antonio.

"Oh you know, just thought I'd go for a late-night walk," Arthur responded sarcastically.

"It's nearly nine, Arthur. It's not safe out here, amigo. Get in. We'll give you a ride."

"No. I'll be okay. I just need to clear my mind."

"What are you even doing out here anyway?"

"I told you. I'm just walking."

"Don't lie to me."

"I don't have to explain myself to you."

"I won't make you if you get in the car. Come on. It's cold."

Arthur sighed. "Fine." He opened the door and sat in the back seat.

"Are you going home," Gilbert asked.

"Yeah." Arthur told him where he lived and Gilbert drove off and into the night.

* * *

><p>When Arthur got home he went to his bedroom and threw himself onto his bed. He knew this wouldn't be easy. It would be just as hard for Arthur to forget Francis as it was for Francis to forget him. It was strange how someone could leave your life just as quickly as they entered it.<p>

He thought back to the day he had met Francis. He didn't remember much because of how drunk he was, but he remembered how nice Francis had been. He thought of everything Francis had done since then. All of his attempts to get closer to Arthur: were those actions done out of love or just complete obsession? Arthur knew that being in a coma didn't exactly do wonders for someone's mental health, but most of the crazy things Francis did happened before the car accident, so was Francis really ever sane? It was impossible for someone to be that in love in just a day, right?

Arthur remembered what Lucille had said about Francis: how he often thought he was in love with someone when that really wasn't the case. But in those cases Francis got over the potential lover in a few days. It had been nearly a month since they had met, and Francis still wasn't over Arthur.

He wished he could've stayed friends with Francis, but he just couldn't be around him if he knew what Francis was thinking about most of the time they were together.

Arthur was broken out of his musing when he heard a knock on his bedroom door. He freaked out for a minute, thinking someone had broken into his house. _What kind of robber knocks on the door?_

"Take what you want. I'm not in the mood right now!"

"What are ya talking about? Artie are ya okay?"

"Oh it's just you." Arthur stood up and walked to the door and pulled it open. Allistor was standing there, looking concerned. "You said you weren't going to be here, remember? What are you doing?"

"I was just about to leave when ya stormed in here and straight to your bedroom. Ya didn't seem to notice me."

"Oh. Well, you can go now. Nothing's stopping you." Arthur went to close the door but Allistor stopped him.

"Are ya okay," he repeated.

"I'm fine," Arthur replied, which was obviously not true, but he wasn't in the mood to talk about his feelings with Allistor.

"Alright. If ya say so." Allistor seemed skeptical, but he stepped away from Arthur and let him shut the door. Arthur immediately went to lay back down in his bed, but something stopped him. Yes, he knew it was late. Yes, he knew he should be sleeping, but he had something to take care of first.

He quickly ran out of his bedroom and into the living room just before Allistor had shut the front door.

"Wait," he shouted, but Allistor didn't hear him. Arthur ran to the door and threw it open, yelling again for Allistor to wait.

Allistor heard him this time and stopped, then turned around. "What?"

"I need you to drive me somewhere."

"Again? Artie, ya need to get your own car."

"I will, but for now I need a ride because I am not walking."

"Alright. Where do ya need to go?"

Arthur ran down the steps and over to Allistor. "I'll tell you in the car." They walked over to Allistor's bright red Chevy Impala and got in.

"Where to?"

* * *

><p><strong>Note: <strong>Sorry for the short-ish chapter, but the next one will be really long so it's worth it. But that means that it will probably take me a while to write, so be patient. And of course I made Allistor have a bright red Chevy Impala because their my favorite car and why not?


	16. Chapter 16

Francis watched as Arthur shut the door after leaving him for what seemed like hundredth time, and probably the last. He didn't know what to do so he just stood there, not wanting to move because he might not be able to. He should have been expecting this; he should have known that, in this situation, someone was going to get hurt. He should've quit while he was ahead, when Arthur was still his friend and only his friend. Now Arthur wasn't anything to him, just a painful memory that would never be forgotten.

Now that Arthur was gone, Francis was alone. Sure, he had Antonio and Gilbert, but they would eventually forget him, just like everyone else did. He didn't even want to think about Lucille. She hated him, and he was sure she only visited him in the hospital to say goodbye.

Arthur was the only one that mattered to Francis at the moment, but now all Francis was to Arthur was a passing fancy. Francis had no doubt that Arthur would get over him in a day.

"I hate you!" Francis had no idea who he was yelling at, but it didn't matter. He could be yelling at himself for all he cared. There was no reason to hate Arthur when this was all his own fault. He picked up the vase he had sitting on the table next to the front door and threw it the ground. It shattered along with his heart, which had been cracking ever since Arthur stepped out the door.

Realizing how good it felt to be able to smash something so easily, he picked up the glass sculpture that had been sitting on the table next to the vase. He threw it to the ground as well, glass shards scattering everywhere. Some of the glass pieces had made their way to Francis's bare legs, piercing his skin, but he didn't even notice. The pain from those injuries was nothing compared to the pain that Arthur had caused by leaving him.

Francis walked over to the large window by his door. He looked out at the beautiful view that he had never really paid attention to before. He noticed Arthur was walking away from the house, and he wondered what had taken him so long to depart.

What he wanted to do more than anything was to run out and stop Arthur from leaving him, but he didn't. He was glued to the spot in front of the window, forcing himself to stay there and just watch as Arthur left.

In that moment, he was sure his heart was the most broken it had ever been in his life. Just like the vase and the glass sculpture that Francis had so carelessly thrown to the ground, his heart was in pieces. It would never be fixed again, and even if it was, it would never be perfect; it would always be at risk of falling apart. He thought of how beautiful the vase had been and now it was just a pile of glass and dust, destined to be thrown away and forgotten.

He had no idea how long he had been standing in front of his window, probably an hour, watching the snow come down, but at some point Arthur had disappeared. _No. I won't let this happen._ He ran to the front door and threw it open, stepping out into the bitter air, being pelted by windblown snowflakes. He started down the stairs, but Arthur was nowhere to be seen.

"Arthur!" Francis ran to down to the sidewalk, looking around, but it was impossible to see anything in blizzard. Either Arthur heard him and was ignoring him, or he didn't hear his cries at all. Both were unacceptable to Francis, so he ran down the sidewalk, the cold snow stinging his legs. _Why did I wear shorts today?_ It didn't stop him from getting to Arthur though. He was not letting Arthur leave him that easily; an insincere "goodbye" and "goodnight" was unacceptable to Francis.

"Arthur," he shouted again. "Arthur, I'm sorry," he yelled, but there was no reply. He squinted when he saw headlights. He couldn't make out who was in the car, but he noticed it was slowing down. Not until it came to a complete stop next to him did he notice that Gilbert was driving, with Antonio in the passenger seat.

"Francis? What are you doing out this late? It's cold and you're dressed like it's the middle of June," Antonio said.

"I…" Francis started. "I don't know." He felt like he was going to break down, but doing it in front of his two best friends was not something he wanted to do, so he tried to keep himself together.

"Are you okay?"

"I wish I could say that I was, but to be honest, I don't even know how I feel anymore."

"What are you talking about?"

"I don't know anymore. I don't…" He felt like collapsing or disappearing. The last thing he wanted to do right now was exist.

Antonio opened the car door and stepped out. "Okay, come on amigo, let's go."

"Go where?"

"To your house, of course, silly." Antonio was smiling, but Francis could tell that he was probably just an act of pity.

"Okay." Francis forced himself to smile back, but he still felt like he was going to fall apart. He followed Antonio down the sidewalk and up his stairs. He opened the door and stepped in. He turned to Antonio. "Thank you," he said.

"De nada. And if you ever need to talk, just let me know," Antonio said before turning to leave.

" Wait," Francis stopped him. "Can you talk now?"

"Sí," Antonio replied, still smiling. "Let me tell Gil," Antonio replied. He turned and started down the steps, ran over to the car, said something, and came running back up. "Gil says he doesn't want to wait long, so we have to be quick. What did you want to talk about?"

"Arthur," Francis replied.

"Okay. What about Arthur?"

"Come in and I'll tell you," Francis said as he stepped out of the way.

Antonio stepped inside, Francis closing the door behind him. "Okay. Don't keep Gil waiting too long though."

"Why? Does he have somewhere to be?"

"No. He's just impatient."

"He can wait."

"He says if I take too long he'll leave, and I have to get home to Lovino or he'll be really mad."

"Actually, you should just go. I'll be fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Go to Lovi. I don't want to ruin any of your relationships because I couldn't maintain mine."

"Francis, I'm staying until you explain what you mean by that," Antonio said.

"It's nothing. Go."

"Francis."

"Alright. You may want to sit down; this is a long story." They walked to Francis's living room and sat down on the vintage sofa by the fireplace.

"Okay. Tell me what's going on between you and Arthur," Antonio said.

"That's the thing. Nothing is happening between me and Arthur, not anymore anyway."

"What do you mean," Antonio asked. He wasn't smiling anymore, which was strange. Antonio almost always smiled. It was what Francis liked about Antonio; it was comforting, although it did sometimes get annoying how cheerful he was, even in tough situations. But there was no grin plastered on his face at the moment, to Arthur figured he must actually be concerned.

"Arthur…" Francis paused. "He…," But Francis couldn't finish. He put his hands in his face and let his tears fall. Antonio scooted over to him and put his hand on his back.

"What did he do? Francis, am I going to have to kill a bitch tonight, because, I swear, if he hurt you..."

Francis looked up. "No. _Mon Dieu. _He didn't do anything _that_ bad."

"Sorry. Just trying to protect you," Antonio responded. "So what did he do to make you like this? Because he's not going to get away with it. Lovino has connections with the mafia. They won't kill him, but–"

"Antonio stop. I don't want to hurt him. Thank you for your concern, but Arthur had every right and reason to do what he did."

"You still haven't told me what it was that he did," Antonio said as he put his feet on the coffee table- something he had done many times before. It bothered Francis but he didn't say anything. "And I was kidding about the mafia. Well not the part about Lovino having connections with it. He actually does."

"I don't think you're supposed to tell anybody about that."

"Mierda! I forgot. Please don't tell anyone else."

"I won't. I don't want anything to do with that," Francis stood up and walked to the window. "Gilbert's still out there. If he leaves I can give you a ride home."

"Okay. Now quit stalling. Sit down and tell me the whole story."

"Alright." Francis walked back over to the sofa and sat down. "Once upon a time, there was a beautiful princess–"

"Francis, I meant tell me everything about Arthur, not Cinderella."

"Oh right. Are you sure? It's a really long story."

"FRANCIS!"

"Okay. _Mon Dieu._ You don't have to yell."

"Yes I do," Antonio retorted. "It's the only way to get you to cooperate."

"Alright. So, just like any good story, mine starts at a gay bar."

"You mean the one you worked at? Whatever happened to that?"

"I never went back, and I don't plan to. Anyway, I believe it was a Tuesday. Or Wednesday. I don't remember. I was really stressed because one of those annoying straight men had just been making fun of the customers. No one else was doing anything about it, so I told him to knock it off. He called me some rather unsavory names. I told him that he should find a better way to spend his time than harassing everyone. He ignored me and left, knocking over a couple chairs as he went. I was just glad he didn't cause too much trouble."

"You know, I stopped trusting most heterosexual men a long time ago," Antonio said, completely engulfed in Francis's story.

"Sorry, I went off topic," Francis continued. "Anyway, that's when I saw him. One of the most beautiful men I had seen in my life. He looked upset, so when he walked over and sat down, I immediately approached him and asked him what he wanted. I don't remember what he ordered, but he had around five of them. He was so drunk, he could barely stand, so I offered to help him get home. I didn't do this with anyone else, but Arthur was special. Anyway, he refused and left. I thought I had seen the last of him, but I was wrong. About an hour later, when I was locking the doors for the night, I heard someone yelling. I turned around and saw Arthur, who was running across the street over to me. He asked me how to get home. I had no idea how to respond; I had no idea where he lived. He told me he lived in a flat close by so I drove him to the only flat I knew that was close. It turned out that he did live there, so I walked him to the one he lived in and left. I ran into Arthur a couple more times after that. Some were complete coincidence, but others were on purpose. Anyway, I did something that made him really mad. I'm not going to say what I did, but it was pretty bad I guess because he made me leave his flat. I didn't want to leave him like that, so I bought him flowers and went back to his house to apologize. He forgave me. I thought that was the last of it, but before I left, he asked me if I would make dinner for him. I was surprised because I had offered earlier, but he turned me down."

"I can't imagine why," Antonio said.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you were basically a stranger to him."

"Yeah, you're right. I guess I was just so taken aback by his charm that I completely overlooked the fact that he didn't know me at all. Anyway, he came over to my house and I showed him around a bit, and then made him dinner. Our conversation got pretty deep, and I guess I said a few things I shouldn't have because he got up and said he had to go. He ran out of the room and I followed him. I asked him if he wanted me to drive him home, but he decided to stay. I was really happy about that. When he came back we started talking again. It was a rather personal topic so I won't go into detail too much. Again, I said a few things I wish I didn't, and Arthur probably did as well. He had had several glasses of wine, and I knew he couldn't handle his alcohol very well. Anyway, I said must have said something that he liked because that's when he kissed me. I almost kissed him back, and I would've done a lot more, but I remembered that he was probably drunk, and had no idea what he was doing, so I pushed him away. I drove him home and had no idea how to feel about what had just happened. I decided that I was angry at him for some reason. I drove away without saying anything. The next day I went to his flat planning to ask him to go to a movie with me. When he answered the door he was wearing nothing but a towel, and I swear, I would've–"

"I'm going to stop you there," Antonio interrupted.

"That is probably a good idea. Anyway, like I said, I asked him to go see a movie, but he said he had a 'thing'. I knew that he actually wasn't busy, but if he didn't want to hang out he didn't have to. So I left, but a few minutes later my phone rang. I answered it, and it was Arthur. He said that he wasn't busy and that he would love to see the movie. I had no idea why he changed his mind, but I was really happy. So I turned the car around and began driving to his flat. That's when I got hit by the truck and almost died."

"What was it like," Antonio asked.

"What was what like?"

"Being in a coma."

"I don't really remember. It was sort of like being dead but not dead at the same time. Anyway, when I woke up, Arthur was the first to visit. He came by a few times. You know the rest of the story or most of it anyway. You and Gil met Arthur, and that's pretty much everything leading up to earlier."

"What were you and Arthur arguing about earlier at the hospital? You know, when Arthur snapped at me?"

"Okay. Here's where the problems start. You know that note I told you to give to Arthur?"

"Yeah."

"Well, that note was a love confession. Actually it was more of a love reminder. I had told Arthur many times before that I loved him, but he didn't love me back so I tried not to bother him too much. The note must have made him mad, because he came to my house. I thought he was there to yell at me, but, of course, I was wrong. He kissed me, and I didn't know what to do. This time he wasn't drunk, so I kissed him back. After we stopped I remembered that we said we would visit Feliciano. So we went to the hospital and that's pretty much it."

"That's a great story and all, but you still didn't tell me what Arthur did."

"Ah. When Feli asked Arthur if he had a girlfriend, he said he didn't and that he wasn't interested in anyone at the moment. I thought he was just kidding or trying to hide the fact that me and him were… um… more than friends. I was sort of offended to find out he was serious. Could that kiss really mean nothing to him? Anyhow, he agreed to come over so we could talk about it, and that's when he decided it would be best if he left and never came back. He suggested that I forget about him. As if that was possible. So he left, and that's why I was outside when you found me. I wasn't going to let him leave like that. But I guess this is meant to be." Francis paused and inhaled deeply. "Toni, what are you supposed to do when the person you would take a bullet for is the one behind the trigger?"

"It doesn't have to end like this."

"What," Francis started, but was interrupted because Antonio was pulling him out of his seat.

"We're going to find Arthur. I gave him a ride home earlier because I saw him walking alone, but I didn't question it. Now I know why he was there. Hopefully Gil didn't leave yet." Antonio threw open the front door and pulled Francis outside. "Good he's still here." They ran down the stairs and got in Gilbert's car.

"Toni, what are you doing? Is this another one of your unawesome ideas that always get us into trouble? Because I'm not in the mood right now."

"No. Drive us to Arthur's flat."

"Okay, don't ask nicely. Whatever." Gilbert started the car and drove away. "So tell me again why we're going to that uptight old man's house."

"He's not old," Francis retorted. "He's only three years older than you."

"He's still uptight and unawesome," Gilbert replied.

"You should branch out your vocabulary. You know there are millions of words that aren't 'awesome'," Antonio said with his usual smile back on his face.

"Shut up. Awesome is the only awesome word. Why are we going to this jerks house?"

"I don't know. Toni won't tell me."

"You said you didn't want it to end like that, and it's not going to," Antonio stated.

"Is that supposed to explain everything. Because if it is, I'm going to need another hint," Francis said.

"You'll find out soon enough, amigo."

* * *

><p>Allistor parked the car, and Arthur scrambled out.<p>

"Tell me again why we're here," Allistor said. "Again."

"I don't have time to explain." Arthur closed the car door and ran up the stairs to Francis's front door. He couldn't believe what he was about to do, but he decided that what he did previously was not the best way to say goodbye to Francis. He shouldn't even be saying goodbye to Francis at all. He didn't want to forget him, not if he could help it. He knocked on the door and waited for Francis to throw the door open. Arthur couldn't wait to see the look on Francis's face.

After waiting for a few moments with no one opening the door, Arthur knocked again and waited. He was slowly becoming impatient. Why wasn't Francis answering the door? He contemplated looking in his window, but he didn't want to seem like a creep, so he didn't.

He waited for a good ten minutes before giving up and walking back to Alistor's car. He opened the passenger side door and got in. "I guess I'm not doing this."

"Doing what?"

"Nevermind. Let's just go home."

"Alright then." Allistor started the car and drove away from Francis's house. Arthur didn't know what caused him to change his mind and go back. Was he going to do it for him or Francis? Maybe both. He didn't know; he just knew that he didn't want to forget Francis.

* * *

><p>Francis still wasn't sure where Antonio was going with this.<p>

"Actually, Gil. We need to go somewhere else first," Antonio blurted out.

"I am literally thirty feet away from Arthur's flat, and now you tell me. Totally not awesome."

"Yeah whatever. Just hear me out."

"Alright where do you want to go," Gilbert responded, stopping the car.

Antonio leaned over and whispered something in Gilbert's ear.

"Why the fuck would I ever go there," Gilbert shouted.

"Because. Just deal with it for now. You don't have to go inside, just wait in the car," Antonio replied.

"Fine, butI don't like this plan of yours. It's so unawesome."

"Stop saying that word. _Mon Dieu_. You're driving me crazy. And where are we going now, Toni?"

"You'll find out."

"Yeah I'll find out. Because I will strangle you if you don't tell me now."

"Go ahead. I still won't tell you."

"_Vas te faire encule_."

"I don't know what you just said, and I don't want to."

"We're here," Gilbert interrupted.

"Bueno. Come on Francis."

Francis looked out the window, shocked. "Nope. No way. There is no way I'm going in there again."

"Yes there is."

"_Non_. I will not"

"You are going in there whether you like it or not." Antonio opened the car door, shut it, and then opened Francis's. Despite Francis's protests, Antonio managed to get him out of the car with little injury. He dragged him to the front door of the building that they were about to enter.

"I can't believe this. What are we doing here?" Francis looked at the unlit neon 'open' sign on the door of the bar that he swore he would never step foot in again.

"We're going to trash this place," Antonio replied.

"No. Antonio this is illegal. We _will_ go to jail."

"Not if no one knows it was us."

"There are security cameras in there. They _will_ know it was us. Why do you want to do this anyway?"

"About the security cameras: I know a guy. I just have to call him. He knows how to disable any security camera system in town. And _I'm_ not going to do this. _We_ are."

"Fine. Why are _we_ doing this?"

"Because this place caused you nothing but pain, and I have a couple of straight guys on my bad side that I can frame for it. No one will believe that two gay guys destroyed a gay bar."

"Antonio, you are crazy. I'm not going to do this."

"That's what you said about the baby shower we crashed. Remember that? We had a great time." Antonio smiled, and this time Francis wanted to punch him in the face.

"Yeah. I woke up covered in peanut butter. What a great time that was," Francis replied sarcastically.

"They don't call us the 'Bad Touch Trio' for nothing, amigo."

"Who calls us that? Who are 'they'? Toni, look at this rationally. There is no possible way for this to not have serious consequences. I do not want us to end up in jail again."

"Again?"

"October, 2012. We got drunk, and you–"

"You swore you would never mention that again," Antonio interrupted, his eyes wide and his smile slowly disappearing.

"So you do remember? Well, thatis going to happen again if we go through with this."

"Not if we do it correctly. Come on, Frankie. You know you want to," Antonio said while playfully punching Francis's shoulder.

"Fine," replied Francis, finally giving in to Antonio's reasoning. "You convinced me. Just one condition."

"Hmm?"

"Never call me Frankie again, or I will rip out every single hair on your head."

"Alright. Alright. Dios Mío. I won't," Antonio responded, then turned to the glass door in front of him. "Do you have a key?"

"Yes, I carry ten of them on my body at all times. Why on Earth would I have a key? I don't work here anymore."

"Jesus, Arthur's sarcasm must have really rubbed off on you. So how are we going to get in?"

Francis looked around. "Now would be the best time to call your 'guy'."

"Alright." Antonio pulled his cellphone out of his pocket and started dialing a number. He held it up to his ear and was silent for a moment.

"Hello?" He paused. "Yes. Umm. Code word? Oh yeah." He lowered his voice to a whisper so Francis or anyone passing by couldn't hear him. He said something then hung up. "We have to wait exactly thirty seconds. The cameras will then be disabled."

"There is a lot I don't know about you, _mon ami_. Isn't there?"

"Yeah. There is a lot of stuff that a lot of people don't know about me."

They were silent for the remaining few seconds. Then Antonio spoke. "Okay, we should be good. So how are we going to get in here?"

Francis looked around to make sure no one would see him. When he was sure there was no one else within seeing or hearing distance besides him, Antonio, and Gilbert, he picked up a rock that they used for a doorstop on hot days and threw it through the door, smashing it to bits. "I have recently learned that it is quite fun to smash things," Francis said, out of breath.

"Okay… I'm not going to question where you learned that," Antonio replied as he stepped over the door frame, trying not to step on any glass shards. Francis followed, and they were soon in the main part of the bar.

"Now where do we start," Francis said as he smiled. He had to admit that he had always been wanting to do this, but he never wanted to do it alone.

"Well what did you hate most about the place?"

"The manager," Francis replied without hesitation. "He never did anything about the harassment. He saw what was happening, but he never tried to stop it. It made me so mad."

"Does he have an office or something like that?"

"Yeah. In the back."

"Well then what are you waiting for? Vamonos."

Francis grinned even wider and started towards the back of the bar. "This is it," he said after he stopped outside a door with "MANAGER" painted on the glass part. His grin soon turned into a look of disgust and pure hatred. "I hate his guts."

Antonio looked into the small window, trying to see inside the room. "Alright. I know what we're going to do. Hand me that bottle of really expensive looking wine over there." Antonio pointed at a bottle on a table a few feet away. Francis walked over and picked it up.

"Here. Why did you want this?"

Antonio didn't answer, just kicked the manager's door open. Even though it was unlocked, he still wanted to do as much damage as he could. The two stepped through the doorway while Antonio opened the wine bottle. He took a drink and cringed. "Tastes expensive. I would probably have to save up my money for a month to be able to afford this." He looked around. "Does he have a computer?"

"Yes. Over here," Francis said as he grabbed the wine bottle out of Antonio's hand and took a swig. He led Antonio over to a desk in the corner. "Why do you need his computer?"

"I don't. But _he's_ going to need a new one by the time I'm done with it." He opened up the laptop, which was probably worth about as much as Antonio's car. He grabbed the wine out of Francis's hand and started pouring its contents all over the computer.

"Don't you think this is a bit… uh… extreme?"

"More extreme than your hatred for this guy?" Antonio stopped pouring the wine.

"_Non_. I guess not," Francis replied. "Continue."

Antonio tipped the bottle and emptied the rest of it out on the keyboard, causing it to spark. "Now that that's done with, what now?"

"I could use some more of that wine," Francis said, hurrying out of the office. He made his way to the bar and grabbed another bottle of the same wine. He opened it and chugged half the bottle, and passed it to Antonio.

"I'll pass. Wine isn't really my thing."

"Suit yourself, _mon ami_," Francis replied before taking another drink. He set the bottle down and staggered over to a chair. He knocked it over and yelled, "Take that!"

"Toni? Francis? What the fuck are you doing? I've been waiting in the car for ten minutes," they heard Gilbert say as he walked in to the building.

"Hola. We just had to take care of something. We can go now, can't we Francis?"

"Yeah, that's a good idea," Francis replied as he walked over to Antonio and leaned on his shoulder. "I wanna see Arthur now."

"Okay. Let's go." Antonio helped Francis out of the bar, with Gilbert following. They got in the car and sped away, leaving the bar with less damage than they intended to.

* * *

><p>Arthur got out of Allistor's car and said goodbye, watching him drive away. He realized he probably wouldn't see his brother again for a very long time. With a tiny bit of regret in the pit of his stomach, he walked up the stairs to his flat and unlocked the door. He stepped in and almost passed out from what he saw.<p>

"Francis? What the bloody hell are you doing here," he shouted. Francis was sitting casually on his sofa, and when he heard Arthur he turned around.

"Oh hello, _chéri._ I'm glad you finally decided to show up," Francis replied.

"Did you break into my house?" Arthur slammed the door shut. "What is wrong with you?"

"I didn't _break_ in. Antonio knows how to pick a lock. No breaking was done."

"You…" Arthur started. His face was red, and he was really angry, but for some reason he didn't care. "You know what? I don't care anymore. You are the most unpredictable man I have ever met, and I now realize that it was going to be impossible to get rid of you that easily."

"I don't want to forget you, _chéri_," was all that Francis said.

"I don't want to forget you either," Arthur replied. Francis responded by getting off the sofa and running over to Arthur, throwing his arms around him.

"Personal space, Francis. Personal space."

"Oh right." He let go and stepped back. "Thank you for not calling the cops."

"No problem." Arthur sniffed. "Are you drunk?"

"I may have had a whole bottle of wine before I came here."

Arthur sighed. "Francis, I'm the one who's supposed to be drunk all the time."

Francis laughed in response.

"You should sit down. Come on." Arthur led Francis back to the sofa, sitting down next to him. "I'll make you some tea." He started to get up.

"No," Francis said as he grabbed Arthur's arm, pulling him back down. "I'll be fine. Don't leave."

"Alright." Arthur had nothing else to say, so he sat in silence, neither of them daring to break it.

Finally Arthur spoke. "You said Antonio was here? Where is he now?"

"He went home."

"Did he drive you here?"

"_Oui._ Why?"

"Now you have no way of getting home. I don't have a car, and buses don't run this late. You sure as hell can't walk home, not in this condition."

"Well then I guess I won't go home," Francis said.

"I don't like where you're going with this," Arthur replied.

Francis was leaning toward Arthur now, either on purpose, or he was slumping from the alcohol; Arthur didn't know, and he tried to get as far away from Francis as he could, but no mattered how hard he tried to lean away, Francis just kept getting closer. Arthur finally gave in and let Francis rest his head on his shoulder. "Francis?"

"Hmm?"

"Nothing. Just wondering if you were still awake."

"I am."

"Okay."

They stayed in that position, in silence, for what seemed like hours. Arthur ran his hands through Francis's hair and he started snoring at some point. Arthur didn't want to wake him up, but it was probably a good idea.

He looked at the clock on the wall. It was eleven, and Arthur needed to get up early in the morning, so he gently tapped Francis's shoulder and whispered, "Francis. Francis wake up."

"Huh? Oh. Good morning." He smiled, and Arthur smiled back.

"It's not morning, Francis. It's eleven at night."

"What?" He sat up and looked at the clock. "Oh. It is."

"Do you want to stay the night? You can sleep on the sofa."

"Yeah. I would love that."

"Alright. I'm going to bed. Feel free to wake me up if you need anything." Arthur stood up and stretched, making his shirt pull up, showing his bare stomach, which Francis couldn't help but stare at.

"Goodnight," Arthur said.

"_Bonne nuit, mon amour._"

"I know what that means, Francis."

"I know." Francis smiled.

"Okay," Arthur replied awkwardly. "Well, goodnight. Again." He turned and walked to his bedroom, closing the door behind him.

* * *

><p><strong>Note: <strong>Also sort of a warning. The next chapter may or may not contain smut. I don't know if I want to write that yet, so I'll make sure to add a warning if I do. And if I do it won't be too detailed.


	17. Chapter 17

**WARNING: **This chapter contains mild smut. It's not bad, but I still feel the need to warn you. (Btw, to anyone wanting to translate this story, be my guest. Just make sure to give me credit, please.) -Fruktheworld99

* * *

><p>Arthur woke up to a knock on his door. He looked at the clock and groaned when he saw that it was only three in the morning. He got up and opened the door.<p>

"What do you want," he asked Francis, who was standing awkwardly just outside the bedroom door.

"This is going to sound sort of weird, but…" Francis paused. "Could I sleep in here? With you?"

"Francis," Arthur started to say no, but he was too tired to care. He sighed. "You know what? Sure. But why?"

"I get lonely sometimes"

"Alright, come on," Arthur replied.

"Thank you." Francis said, surprised that Arthur had said yes. He followed Arthur over to his bed. They laid down next to each other, not daring to touch one another. They let the awkward silence settle over them, neither of them speaking.

"So…," Francis started, looking over at Arthur. "Do you want to–"

"Don't say it," Arthur interrupted.

"I wasn't going to. I was just asking if you wanted to cuddle."

"Fine," Arthur replied, completely shocked by his own answer. _What am I doing?_ "But it's completely platonic."

"Platonic cuddling. I had no idea that that was a thing," Francis replied, while turning to face Arthur. He awkwardly wrapped his arms around the other man.

"Well it's a thing now," Arthur replied, staring into Francis's bright blue eyes that reflected the moonlight shining through the window. His beautiful blue eyes that Arthur could never get enough of. That beautiful shade of blue that Arthur's dull green couldn't even compare to. The bright blue that Arthur had fallen in love with, and he hadn't even realized it until now. Maybe it was because he was exhausted, and he had no control over his actions, or something else, but for some reason Arthur wanted to kiss Francis more than anything right now.

"Completely platonic," Arthur whispered.

"Yeah. Nothing romantic about this at all," Francis responded as he slowly moved even closer to Arthur's.

And before Arthur knew it, they were kissing, and nothing had ever felt more right in Arthur's life. He knew that this was where he belonged: in Francis's arms, nowhere else. He felt the outside world melt away, along with all of his problems. Right now, the only thing that mattered was this kiss and being here with Francis, alone.

Arthur gasped against Francis's lips when he felt his hand lift his shirt, brushing against his bare chest. He kept kissing him, pressing closer and closer to Francis until there was barely a paper-thin space between them. Francis had completely removed Arthur's shirt, and Arthur did the same with Francis's.

Not until Francis was completely on top of him did Arthur realize he had no idea what he was doing. He didn't know with Lucille a month ago, and he didn't know now. They were completely different circumstances, but the concept was still basically the same.

Arthur suddenly broke away from Francis to say, "Wait. Are you sure you want to do this?"

Francis looked down at Arthur, his hair covering his face. "Only if you want to."

"I…" Arthur paused. Francis looked so perfect in the pale moonlight. He knew that sounded extremely cliché, but it was true. "I don't know."

"Well, I won't do anything if you don't want me to," Francis replied.

"No. I want to." Arthur had made up his mind. "I want it so bad, but I don't… I've never…" He closed his eyes. "Francis, I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing."

To Arthur's surprise, Francis started laughing, and rolled over next to Arthur.

He lightly punched Francis shoulder. "Don't laugh at me, frog!"

But Francis didn't stop. When he finally caught his breath he said, "Do you think I know what I'm doing. I've never done this either." He looked at Arthur. "Not with a guy anyway," he added.

"Well, I guess we'll figure it out," Arthur replied, and he positioned himself so that he was now on top of Francis. He smiled seductively, biting his lip.

"Don't do that," Francis said before kissing him again.

Arthur broke away. "What are you going to do about it?"

Francis somehow managed to get back on top of Arthur again. "A lot."

And Arthur realized that this wasn't like himself at all. Just yesterday, he would've never even thought about doing something like this. He was in too deep to turn back now, but there was no way that he could go through with this. He cursed himself for never being able to make up his mind.

Francis leaned down and pressed his lips to Arthur's neck, slowly making his way down to his collarbone. Arthur let out an unexpected moan. He had never been used to anyone being this close to him. The last time this had happened had been with Lucille, and even then he wasn't one hundred percent sure where it was headed.

"Arthur, are you okay?"

Arthur realized that he had been staring at the same spot on the ceiling for the last minute without moving. "What?" He looked back at Francis. "Yeah. Just thinking about… stuff."

"You decided to think about stuff right now?"

"Sorry. It's just…"

"Arthur, we don't have to do this." Francis rolled off of Arthur and laid next to him.

"No, I…" Arthur sat up and looked down at Francis. "I don't know."

"Will you please make up your mind? Because I'm really tired and probably going to pass out soon."

"Alright," Arthur replied, taking a deep breath. "Let's do this."

"Is that a yes?"

Arthur nodded, and with that Francis crawled over to where Arthur was sitting on the bed and kissed him again. Arthur had to admit that kissing Francis was an odd but pleasant experience. Of course, it would be much better if Francis didn't taste like wine, which was probably never going to happen. Francis seemed to have an ever-lasting aura wine and roses; Arthur would have to get used to that.

Realizing that if he wanted to get anywhere with this they would probably have to do more than just kissing, Arthur slid his hand down Francis's chest and to the waistband of his jeans, where he paused. He looked up into Francis's eyes, trying to detect anything to let Arthur know that Francis wasn't sure about this either, but there was nothing. All he saw in those beautiful eyes was love and desire. He tried not to think rationally about what was happening, but it was nearly impossible with Francis staring at him like he was.

_What am I getting myself into?_ Arthur closed his own eyes, no longer able to look into Francis's burning stare.

"Arthur, are you okay?"

"I feel like there's something holding me back from doing whatever I'm supposed to be doing."

"Well let me help you then." Francis said, and he brought his hand to the waistband of Arthur's sweats that he had changed into just before going to bed. He looked at Arthur as if asking permission. Arthur nodded, and Francis proceeded to slip the sweats off of Arthur's waist and he kicked them all the way off. Arthur did the same with Francis's jeans, and started kissing again. This time, the kiss was deeper, more passionate. Arthur's hands were tangled in Francis's long, blond hair as Francis slipped his hand into the waistband of Arthur's boxers.

_Oh my God. We're really doing this. This has to be a dream. _But it wasn't. This was actually happening. Arthur still wasn't sure if he wanted to go through with this even though he told Francis he did. Arthur knew Francis would stop if he asked, but did he really want to stop? He decided to just go along with whatever Francis was doing. He seemed to know what to do, so Arthur let him take control.

Arthur realized that he was still sitting up against the wall, so he slid down onto his back, taking Francis with him, all while they were still kissing. He brought his lips to Arthur's neck again, and moved down to his collarbone but didn't stop there. He peppered kisses down his chest and stopped at his stomach.

Francis stopped and looked up at Arthur. "Is your bellybutton pierced," Francis asked, smiling.

Arthur sighed. "Yes." Francis laughed, to which Arthur responded with, "I was sixteen. It was a sort of rebel phase."

"That's hot," Francis replied. "Do you have any pictures?"

"No. I don't. Freak."

"You're telling me that you do not have one single picture of you from when you were sixteen?"

"Not anymore. I burned them."

"Why would you do something like that?"

"Because I wanted nothing to do with my past."

Francis didn't respond. He looked at Arthur for what seemed like forever.

"What," Arthur said, and Francis looked away.

"Nothing. You are just so beautiful. Almost as beautiful as I am."

"Wow thanks. You woo me so." Arthur looked at the clock. It was almost four, and they still hadn't gotten anywhere. "So are we going to do anything other than kiss? Because the sun is going to rise soon."

"My, my. Impatient are we? Alright, fine."

Francis, who still had his face near Arthur's stomach, quickly moved back up and kissed Arthur. He gasped when he felt Francis's hand reach into his boxers. "Francis," he moaned after Francis stopped kissing him.

Arthur had to admit that he was rather nervous. "Francis," he started. "You seem to know what you're doing. Why did you say you didn't?"

"I lied," was all that Francis replied with.

"Why?" Francis had Arthur's arm pinned above his head with his free hand, and with his other… Well, Arthur had no idea what Francis was doing down there, but it felt really good, so he didn't complain. "Why would you lie?"

"Because you deserve so much better than me," Francis replied.

"What do you mean?"

When Francis didn't respond, Arthur reached down and pulled Francis's hand back up.

"Francis, what do you mean?"

"Nevermind. Forget I said anything." He tried to kiss Arthur again but was stopped.

"No, I'm not going to forget. What do you mean?"

"Don't worry about it."

"It's too late for that. I'm already worried about it."

Francis sighed and rolled off of Arthur, lying next to him, he started, "I know it may be obvious." He paused. "But I'm not the biggest virgin in the world."

Arthur was shocked for a moment. He looked over at Francis. "Do you really think I care about that?"

"Well… I just thought you might want to know."

"It's not like it wasn't obvious."

Francis laughed. "Is it really?"

"Ha, yeah," Arthur replied. It was silent for a moment before he spoke again. "Do you think we could do this another time? I can barely keep my eyes open."

"I do not mind." And with that, Arthur turned on his side. "_Bonne nuit, mon amour_."

"G'night," Arthur muttered in response, closing his eyes.

With Francis's arms wrapped around him, he slowly drifted off.

* * *

><p>Arthur woke up in the same position he fell asleep in, which was odd. Normally, he tossed and turned quite a bit in his sleep. Due to his terrible and often fits of anxiety, Arthur had trouble getting a good night's rest. Being in Francis's comforting hold all night must have kept him calm enough to stay unmoving and peaceful while he dreamt; good dreams took place of his usual nightmares.<p>

Turning to face Francis, Arthur was hit by the sudden realization that this was Francis that he was in bed with. _Oh my God. What have I done?_ Arthur didn't want to think for a minute that he regretted this, because he didn't, but he still wished he had been more aware of what he was doing last night.

Arthur had let his guard down, and now here he was, lying next to Francis, memories of their night spent together still fresh in his mind. Apparently, being tired, for him, was the equivalent to being drunk.

It seemed that there was a war happening between Arthur brain and heart at the moment. His brain knew that this was a bad idea, but his heart forced him to stay locked in Francis's unmoving arms.

Saying that Arthur fell for Francis was the biggest understatement to ever be understated. Loving Francis was like tumbling down a steep hill, hitting every possible rock or tree on the way down. Unlike Francis, who seemed to fall faster that humanly possible, Arthur took his own painful time with the whole process because that was what Francis deserved. No matter how much pain Francis caused Arthur, though, he knew that Francis had also been at the receiving end from Arthur as well.

Arthur should be grateful for Francis; he had been there when nobody else had, even if he was rather annoying about it. Maybe having a non-platonic relationship with Francis wouldn't be that bad. The only way for Arthur to find out was to try.


	18. Chapter 18

Waking up with Arthur in his arms was one of the best things to ever happen to Francis. He could not be happier about the fact that the previous few hours or so of his life were not a dream. He looked at the clock sitting on Arthur's messy bedside table, and was shocked. How could they have slept in until noon? He gently tapped Arthur's shoulder and whispered, "Arthur. Arthur wake up."

"No. It's too early," he mumbled without opening his eyes or moving.

"Arthur, it's nearly twelve o'clock."

Upon hearing this, Arthur bolted upright, cursing as he got out of bed and threw on a shirt and pants.

"What's the hurry,_ mon ami_?"

"I have a job interview," Arthur responded as he clumsily tied his tie. He looked at the clock.  
>"Fuck. I have ten minutes to get there."<p>

"Why do you need a job?"

"Because that's how normal people make money," Arthur replied as he scrambled out of the bedroom door, through the living room, and out the front door.

Francis sat in the bed, unsure of what just happened. "Okay. I'll wait here," he said to no one in particular. Arthur was and always would be a mystery to Francis. He never seemed to be able to make up his mind, which annoyed Francis sometimes. He knew that Arthur couldn't help it, but it was still one of the few things Francis would change about the man if he could.

He had no idea when Arthur would be back, so he got out of bed and threw his shirt and jeans on. He walked out to the kitchen, wanting coffee, but when he couldn't find a coffee maker or anything that even resembled coffee, he settled for tea. He put the water on the stove and walked over to the cupboards on the wall. He opened several, searching for the teabags. He didn't find them until he opened the last one. He went to pull out a box of tea, he didn't know what kind it was, nor did he care; he just needed caffeine. The box was rather light, so he looked inside and noticed that there was only one bag left. He walked over to the garbage can, hoping Arthur wouldn't care that he was using the last of his tea. He was about to throw away the box when he noticed a small, jagged-edged picture attached to the fridge with a magnet shaped like a heart. He got closer to the fridge so he could see who was in the photo.

It was Arthur with his arm around some girl. Francis figured that Arthur was a young teenager or somewhere around that age, though he had no idea who the girl was, but he figured she was a teenager too. Francis thought it was strange that Arthur would have this picture on his fridge. He knew Arthur had tried so hard to erase anything from his past, so why would he keep this? He carefully pulled the tattered photo out from under the magnet, but apparently not carefully enough because the magnet fell to the ground, and being ceramic, it shattered.

"Damn it," Francis whispered as he bent over to clean it up. It wasn't a big magnet, so it didn't make too much of a mess, but Francis had still managed to cut himself on one of the shards. The sight of broken glass brought back all of the memories from last night. The burning hatred he felt, followed by many other endless emotions that had passed through him all at the same time. It was all a blur so he didn't remember much, and after drinking that entire bottle of wine he remembered nothing. Well, he remembered nothing before he knocked on Arthur's bedroom door, then everything became crystal clear. He remembered all too well the way that Arthur's skin had felt, the way that his lips tasted, the way he had said Francis's name. All of these memories flooding back made him shudder, knowing he had come so close to… to what?

Sure Francis's ultimate goal last to night was to have sex with Arthur, but he wanted much more than that. He wanted everything else that would come with their beautiful relationship. He wanted late nights where they would stay up talking about anything and everything that crossed their minds. He wanted lazy mornings, lingering in bed way too long, wrapped in each other's arms until it was too late to get up because they would have to go to bed in a few hours anyway. He longed for the smell of burnt food as Arthur hurried to make breakfast before rushing out the door, but not before giving Francis a quick goodbye kiss on the cheek. He wanted to show Arthur off, hold his hand in public, not caring if people stared because all that mattered was Arthur. But was that really in his future? Would he be able to get Arthur to stay with him?

He would have to. If wanted to have all of his wishes come true, then he would have to, somehow, get Arthur to never leave him again.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he forgot he was still holding the photo of Arthur and… who was that girl? He flipped it over and was surprised to see small, neat handwriting.

_Arthur and Elizabeth 2006_

Elizabeth. That was her name. Arthur had never mentioned her before, but Francis didn't wonder why. If Arthur didn't want to explain who she was, then he didn't have to.

Francis realized that Arthur didn't know much about him either. In fact, they were both practically still strangers. They had known each other for a month, but Francis didn't even know how old Arthur was. _I guess I'll have to fix that_, Francis thought to himself as he tossed the glass shards of the heart-shaped magnet into the garbage can, along with the tea box.

* * *

><p>Arthur's feet hurt like hell. Running nearly three miles in ten minutes seemed impossible, but he was determined to get to the interview on time. He rounded the next corner and flew up the stairs to the office where his interview was. He looked at his watch. <em>Crap, I'm already five minutes late.<em>

He threw open the door and finally stopped running. He stepped inside and walked over to the secretary.

"Hello," the secretary said cheerfully. "How may I help you?"

"Hi. Arthur Kirkland. I'm here for an interview."

"Oh. Let me see." The woman looked at her computer. "Ah here it is." She looked at the clock, then back at Arthur. "Scheduled for 12:10. Looks like your five minutes late. No big deal. The manager is busy right now anyway. Go ahead and have a seat." She gestured to the chairs sitting several feet away from the desk. Arthur walked over to them and sat down, trying to catch his breath. _So I ran here for nothing?_

Arthur sat and waited for several minutes before a short man with dark hair walked over to him.

"Greetings," the smallish man announced. "I am Mr. Honda, the regional manager of Braginsky Incorporated. You must be Arthur Kirkland. It is a pleasure to meet you." Mr. Honda held his hand out for Arthur to shake.

He gladly accepted, and replied, "Nice to meet you too." Arthur noticed that the man had a slight Japanese accent and expressed close to no emotion when he spoke.

"If you would please follow me into my office we can get the interview started.

"Alright." Arthur followed Mr. Honda into the office and shut the door behind him.

* * *

><p>Francis heard the door open and shut just as he placed the last candle. He heard Arthur's footsteps as he scrambled to light it. Burning himself on the small flame, he yelped and sucked on his finger. Everything was nearly complete. He couldn't wait to see the look on Arthur's face when he stepped through the doorway from the foyer to the living room.<p>

Francis had done a lot to make sure everything was perfect. He pushed the sofa over to the wall to make room for the table, and he had to dig through Arthur's many, many cupboards to find the perfect table cloth. He had to hurry home to change into suitable clothing, and he was worried he wouldn't make it back in time. He also had to run to the market just down the street to buy cheap wine and the ingredients for the dinner he would be cooking. Well, technically it was a late lunch rather than dinner, but it was the thought that counted.

Francis looked up from the candle he was still trying to light when Arthur walked in.

"What on Earth?"

"Welcome home, _mon amour_," Francis replied cheerfully. "How did your interview go?"

"Forget the interview. What the hell are you doing?"

"I cooked lunch. I was bored."

"Are the candles really necessary?" Arthur looked around. "And the roses?"

"Yes," was all that Francis said in return.

"Why…" Arthur paused, bringing his hand to his face. "Why would you do this?"

"Do you not like it?"

"No. It's quite," Arthur thought for a minute. "It's rather extravagant. Then again, what other word would I use to describe you?"

Francis smiled. "I'm glad you like it! Now sit down. I'll go get the food." Francis gestured to one of Arthurs dinged up dining chairs that had been in the kitchen before Francis had lugged them into the living room. Arthur walked over and sat down while Francis came back with the lunch/dinner. He set down the plates, then sat down across from Arthur.

"Okay. What is this," Arthur asked, clearly shocked, but it was a good sort of shocked. Arthur's caught-off-guard look was one of Francis's favorites.

"What is what, _chéri_?"

Arthur gestured to the whole room with his arms. "This."

"Oh. Like I said– I was bored."

"You were bored, so you cooked a five-star meal, dimmed the lights, and lit candles. Is that what you do every time you're bored? Because that sounds really expensive."

"Yes, Arthur. Every time I get bored, I do this. I have a romantic dinner and make conversation with myself. Then I go make sweet love to myself as well."

"Seriously, what's the real reason?"

"I want to get to know you better, and what better way to get to know someone than a romantic dinner for two?"

"It's only three o'clock, Francis. This isn't dinner."

"Whatever. So, tell me about yourself."

"You already know mostly everything about me. I'm an open book."

"We both know that's not true. How old are you."

"You know how old I am," stated Arthur.

"No I don't."

"Fine." Arthur sighed. "I'm twenty three. Now what else could you possibly want to know?" Arthur picked up his fork and went to take a bite of the fancy salad in front of him.

"Who's Elizabeth?"

Arthur dropped his fork and nearly chocked. When he caught his breath he looked at Francis. "What?"

"Elizabeth. The girl on your fridge."

"Oh. Her. She was… um… my girlfriend. _Was_ my girlfriend."

"_Was_ your girlfriend. Oh. Sorry for asking. I was just curious."

"It's fine."

"You said you wanted to forget your past. Why do you still have a picture of her?" Francis hated himself for asking, but he really wanted to know.

"I don't want to forget her."

"Oh. Okay. We don't have to talk about this if you don't want to."

"Thanks," Arthur replied.

The silence was somewhat unsettling, so Francis spoke. "How did the interview go?"

"Okay, I guess." Arthur shrugged as he took a drink of wine.

"What do you mean 'okay'?"

"Well, the manager of the job I was applying for was sort of strange."

"Oh really? How so?"

"I don't know. He was just… odd."

"Is that a problem?"

"No." Arthur sighed. "He just didn't seem to like me very much. Or maybe he did. He didn't really show much emotion."

"Oh. I don't know why he wouldn't like you. You're perfect."

"I think you may be just a bit biased on that topic."

"Well that's what happens when you love someone."

The conversation went on like this for a couple hours. Usually Francis asked the questions and Arthur answered. Most of the time his answers were vague, but he did go into detail sometimes, usually when he was talking about something he liked. Francis loved the way his eyes lit up and how his cheeks filled with color. His face looked so alive, and Francis wanted nothing more than to kiss him, but he restrained himself from doing so.

After they were done eating, Francis started to clean up. Arthur tried to help, but Francis insisted that he relax. Arthur had had a long day, and Francis didn't want him to be too stressed out. So Arthur sat on the sofa as Francis cleared the table, put out the candles, and pushed the table and chairs back into the kitchen. With the help of Arthur, who insisted on not just sitting there, Francis pushed the sofa back to its original spot in the middle of the living room. They sat down next to each other, Francis resting his head on Arthur's shoulder, just like he had the night before. Except this time he wasn't drunk.

"Oh," Arthur suddenly started. "Thanks for the dinner, or lunch, or whatever you want to call it."

"No problem, _chéri_," Francis responded. "So, what do you want to do now?"

"Honestly, I have no idea," Arthur replied.

"Well, I should probably go home," Francis said as he stood up.

"Can I go with you?"

"Sure. Why?"

"I don't know. I'm bored. It could be quite the adventure."

"Okay. Come on." Francis grabbed Arthur's hand and pulled him up, smiling. He dragged him out the door and down the steps.

"How are we going to get there," Arthur asked Francis.

"I don't know. We could walk. It's not that far."

"Okay," Arthur replied, so Francis took hold of his hand again and started in the direction of his house.

* * *

><p><strong>Note: <strong>Hey guys, just a quick warning. The next chapter will most likely contain smut. It will probably be more detailed than the last chapter, so just beware if your sensitive about that. -Fruktheworld99


	19. Chapter 19

**Warning: **There is smut in this chapter, and it is slightly more detailed than that of the last chapter. I tried to keep it short, and it shoiuld be okay to skip because the next chapter will still make sense. Again, sorry for the short chapter, but the next one will make up for it. -Fruktheworld99

* * *

><p>It was a bit cold and dark to be walking such a distance, but Arthur didn't care. It wasn't that far, just like Francis had said, but it was still a longer walk than Arthur had expected. Since it was the middle of January, the roads and sidewalks were slippery with ice, and Arthur had to cling on to Francis's arm to keep himself upright. They got a few strange looks from others passing by, but it didn't really bother Arthur. Francis didn't seem to mind either. He smiled as they walked in silence, nearly slipping himself quite a few times, but every time he was caught by Arthur. They would laugh and start to walk again.<p>

Arthur had never been happier to be out in such cold weather. He had Francis to keep him warm, and nothing else mattered.

When they finally arrived at the house, Francis unlocked the door and led Arthur through.

"Oh. Watch out for the pieced of glass on the ground," Francis said.

"Why is there glass on the floor?"

"I… uh… accidentally knocked a couple things off of that table, and I didn't bother to clean it up."

"Oh." Arthur followed Francis into the living room. They sat down next to each other on Francis's sofa, a bit too close, just like they always were.

"So," Arthur started. "What do we do now?"

"I think I have something in mind," Francis said before leaning over to kiss Arthur, and Arthur was glad that he had come home with Francis.

He broke away momentarily to say, "Um. Francis, do you thing we could do this somewhere else?" He motioned to the giant window that they were in front of, where anyone could see their display of affection.

"Good idea," Francis replied, pulling Arthur out of his seat and out of the living room. They half ran-half stumbled up the stairs and into Francis's bedroom, hands still intertwined. They crashed onto the bed, and unlike last night, they didn't take their time. They had each other stripped within minutes.

"Wait," Arthur said. "Don't we need something to… um… make it easier to… you know."

Francis looked down at him in confusion for a moment before realizing what Arthur meant. "Oh. Oh yeah. Give me one second." Francis got up and ran into the hall. He was back moments later with a small white bottle of something.

"What is that," Arthur asked.

Francis handed the bottle to Arthur.

"Rose-scented lotion," Arthur scoffed. "Are you kidding me? Is this even safe?"

"Well it doesn't say not to use it for this particular purpose, so how bad can it be?"

"Francis, do you really think when they were making the label for this, they thought 'Well, we better warn people not to use this for gay sex'? Because I doubt that went through their mind."

"It is made to be rubbed all over someone's skin, so I do not think it will kill us."

"Whatever," Arthur replied. Francis did make a good point, and Arthur really didn't care.

"So," Francis said, grabbing the bottle out of Arthur's hand. "You actually want to do this?"

"Yes," Arthur replied, and pulled Francis on top of him. He kissed him, and he couldn't believe that just last night, he had told Francis that he never wanted to see him again. He was really glad that Francis had drank that bottle of wine. He was glad that Antonio could pick a lock. He was glad that Francis got lonely in the middle of the night. He was glad that Francis made him lunch earlier. He was glad he didn't let Francis go home alone.

The kiss made Arthur realize that there was still some good in the world. Just when he thought things couldn't get any worse, Francis crashed into his life. Arthur wondered if he had ever really hated Francis, or if he was just confused by his feelings. He had never really felt that way about anyone, except for one girl, but he promised himself he would never think about her again —too many painful memories. So instead, he tried to focus on what was happening right now. All he knew was that he was kissing Francis, and that at some point Francis would be… inside him. Arthur swallowed. He was sort of nervous, but he had to admit this felt sort of natural. Francis knew what he was doing, so Arthur let him take control.

Arthur's heart leapt to his throat when he felt Francis's hand, which was now covered in the stupid rose-scented lotion, reach down there. He yelped when Francis's fingers prodded into him, causing Francis to stop.

"Am I hurting you?"

"No. It's fine," Arthur replied, and Francis continued doing whatever it was that he was doing.

"Okay. Are you sure you want to do this because we can–"

"No," Arthur interrupted. "I mean yes. Of course I want to do this," Arthur said before pulling Francis back down into another kiss. Arthur was not going to back out this time. This was what he wanted, and Francis wanted it too.

Arthur gasped when Francis finally went all the way. He had to bite his lip to keep from crying out, but the pain was nothing compared to how much it hurt yesterday when he left Francis, thinking he would never see him again.

At the moment, Arthur paid no attention to anything but Francis. Their movements perfectly synchronized. The fact that Francis smelled like roses and wine and everything that Arthur had fallen in love with. The way that Francis gently traced his hands over Arthur's skin, very carefully, as if he were made of glass. The way that Francis said Arthur's name, just a whisper, barely audible.

The sun was now setting, and the orange and red light from the pale sunset shone through the window, reflecting off of Francis's hair, making it look akin to a fire. A fire that Arthur also felt in his heart and in his soul. Francis had become part of him now, and he didn't want to lose him.


	20. Chapter 20

**Note:** Sorry it took me so long to update. I've been busy with school and family and other stuff. Anyway, without further ado, here's the final chapter to _Bonne Nuit Mon Ami_.

-Fruktheworld-99

* * *

><p>Arthur opened his eyes, confused for a moment, not knowing where he was, then the memories came flooding back all at once. He remembered the softness of Francis's skin, which he still felt because he was wrapped in his arms. He recalled the scent of the rose lotion, which he could still detect traces of when he got close enough to Francis. He remembered the way that he and Francis had moved together, so perfect, feeling so right, like that was the only place they belonged.<p>

However, Arthur couldn't remember the exact time that Francis had rolled off of him, wrapped his arms around him, and fell asleep. Last night was a blur, but it was also one of the most vivid memories Arthur had.

He turned to face Francis and wasn't surprised to find that he was still asleep. He looked at the clock and was glad that he had actually woken up at a decent time.

He carefully unraveled himself from Francis's arms, trying not to wake him up, and got out of bed. Realizing that he still had no clothes on, he threw on the pair of pants that was laying on the ground as a result of last night.

He had no idea what to do next. He didn't want to wake Francis up because he looked so cute asleep, and he seemed to be having a nice dream. Then an idea popped into his head.

Yesterday, Francis had cooked for Arthur, so it only seemed fair for Arthur to return the favor. He decided that he would cook breakfast, no matter how bad he might be at cooking. He opened the bedroom door, stepped into the hallway, closing it as quietly as he could.

* * *

><p>Francis didn't want to wake up. He didn't want to wake up to an empty bed and the realization that last night was just a dream. He had to convince himself several times before opening his eyes that last night had actually happened. When he did lazily lift his eyes open, though, Arthur was gone. Francis almost panicked before he saw Arthur's shirt laying on the ground. He breathed a sigh of relief, glad that the events of last night were not just something that Francis had created in his mind.<p>

If Arthur wasn't in bed, then where was he? He wouldn't have gone home, not without his shirt. Francis sat up and almost threw up. _What is that smell?_ He looked around, then it hit him. _Oh no_. He got out of bed, threw on a shirt and pants, and threw open the door. He almost tripped as he flew down the stairs, but he caught himself on the railing.

When he got to the kitchen, he burst through the door yelling, "Arthur! Stop!"

Arthur nearly dropped the pan that he was holding when Francis unexpectedly crashed through the doorway. "What?"

"You don't know what you're doing! You're going to hurt yourself or more importantly me!"

"Oh wow thanks. I'm so glad you care," Arthur said while cracking an egg into the pan that he had nearly dropped moments before. "I was just making omelets. How hard can it be?"

"_Non_. That's not how you do it." Francis walked over to Arthur and pushed him away from the stove. "Let me show you."

So for the rest of the morning, Francis taught Arthur how to cook a proper omelet. Occasionally, they would get into arguments. Most of the time they were pointless little debates.

"All I'm saying is that David Tennant makes a way better Doctor than Matt Smith."

"But Matt Smith is cuter," Francis retorted, and smiled.

This went on for a while, and continued to argue even after they were done eating breakfast.

When they had finished cleaning up the kitchen, which had taken quite a while due to their mini food fight that had occurred when they were cooking, they made their way to the living room.

They were now on the couch, Francis lying with his head in Arthur's lap. Arthur was playing with Francis's hair, which was relaxing for both of them. Neither of them spoke. They didn't was to break the perfect silence.

Francis still couldn't get the events of last night out of his head, but he didn't want to. So they just sat there, together, for what seemed like hours.

Francis jumped when Arthur finally spoke.

"I should probably head home soon. I'm expecting a phone call."

"Do you not have a cell phone?"

"No," Arthur replied. "I never bothered to buy one."

"That is unacceptable, _chéri._ What if you get into trouble and you can't get ahold of me."

"I doubt that will happen," Arthur said as he stood up. "Now come on. I need a ride home."

"Alright," Francis replied, getting up to follow Arthur out the front door. "Who are you expecting a call from," he asked as he opened the car door.

"Remember the job interview I went to yesterday? They said they would call."

"That soon?" Francis started the car and backed out of the driveway.

"Well they said they would call today if I got the job."

"Do you know for sure that you did?"

"Well, I can't be sure, but the manager did say that there were only a few people that applied for the job, so there's a pretty good chance."

"That is good."

They drove in silence for the rest of the trip back to Arthur's house. When Francis parked the car outside of the flat, Arthur noticed something that made him cry out in shock.

"What the bloody hell!"

Francis jumped. "What?"

Arthur didn't answer, but got out of the car and slammed the door. He walked over to the cherry-red Chevy Impala parked about ten feet away from Francis's car.

"What the hell is he doing here," Arthur shouted, attracting the attention of several pedestrians.

"Who?"

Arthur turned to Francis, who had now gotten out of the car as well. "That wanker! Does he really think he can just barge in anywhere he pleases?"

"I still do not know who you are talking about."

"Just wait here." Arthur stormed up the stairs that led to his flat and unlocked the door. Francis saw him disappear into the room, and despite having Arthur telling him to stay, he followed anyway.

"_Mon ami_, are you alright?"

"Get out!" Francis noticed that Arthur was in the kitchen, shouting at someone. "I don't care. You two need to leave now."

_So there's two of them?_ "Arthur," Francis called as he entered the kitchen. What he saw was a disaster. There were smashed plates on the floor, and Francis wondered how Arthur managed to do so much damage in the little time that he was gone.

"Arthur what is happening," Francis asked, looking at the two other men who were glaring at each other. One had bright red hair and green eyes like Arthur, and the other had blond hair and blue eyes, along with glasses, and a stand of hair that refused to lay flat.

"I wish I knew," Arthur replied as he shot his familiar death-glare at the two men.

"Dude, I just came by to say hi," said the blond one. "But then _he_ showed up." The man gestured to the ginger and made a face at him.

"Why don't ye grow up, lad?"

"Why don't you stop being such a jerk face?"

"Guys stop it! I don't care how much you hate each other. Why the bloody hell are you two wankers in my kitchen?"

Francis had now stepped over the remains of the smashed plate and walked over to Arthur.

"Who are they," he whispered.

"These are my…" Arthur sighed. "Brothers." He turned back to them. "Allistor, Alfred, meet Francis."

"Hey dude!"

"Don't call him that you git!"

"Arthur, you never told me your brother was so cute." Francis smiled, and Alfred blushed.

"He's not cute!" Arthur pushed Francis and turned back to Alfred. "I'm going to ask you one more time. Why the bloody hell are you here?"

"I told you I stopped by to say hi," Alfred replied. "So hi."

"I thought you were in America."

"I was, but I heard that Allistor's house burnt down, and he was living in London again, so I came to laugh at him."

Allistor walked over to Alfred and punched him in the stomach. Alfred doubled over in pain. "Dude, what was that for?"

"I'll have ye know that Molly died in that fire."

"Molly? But she was…" Arthur paused. "I'm sorry."

"I hate to break up this argument, but why do you all seem to hate each other," Francis interrupted.

"Because they're a couple of arseholes," Arthur replied. "That need to get out of my house."

"Why do ye want us to leave so badly?"

"Because you broke into my flat! What kind of person does that?"

"Dude, your face is all red." Alfred laughed. "Why are you so mad?"

"I'm going to say this one last time. You broke into my bloody flat!"

"Chill."

"I'll show you chill!" Arthur grabbed another plate off of the counter and threw it at Alfred, who ducked just in time for the plate to fly over his head and smash against the opposite wall.

"Whoa. You could've killed me!"

"That was the point."

"I think I'm gonna go now." Alfred grabbed his coat from the chair he had hung it over and walked out of the kitchen.

"Don't even think about coming back," Arthur yelled as Alfred left. He then turned to Allistor. "You," he started. "What are you doing here?"

"I just like to mess with ye."

"Get. Out. Now!" Arthur lunged at his brother, but Francis grabbed his shoulder.

"Calm down, _chéri_." Francis turned to Allistor. "Why must you do this to Arthur?"

"Shut up Francis. I don't need you defending me. He's my brother."

Allistor smiled. "So this is Francis? Is he the girl that got ye that rose the other day?"

"Girl?" Francis turned to Arthur. "How does he know about the flower?"

"Nevermind the girl thing. He was the one who drove me to your house, and then I…"

"Ah. Yes. I remember. I think I saw you waiting in the car," Francis said to Allistor. "I'm not a girl."

Allistor didn't respond, and after a few seconds of awkward silence, he said, "I think I'll be leavin' now."

"Good," Arthur spat as Allistor stepped over the remaining shards of the plate and out the door without saying another word.

"Well that was quite the conversation," Francis said, smiling again.

Arthur glared at Francis. "I told you wait outside."

"You were shouting. I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"I'm fine." Arthur stormed out of the kitchen, into the living room, and threw himself on the sofa. After Francis sat down next to him Arthur started ranting about how annoying his two brothers were.

"Do they really think they can just burst into my house with no warning and expect me to welcome them with open arms? I haven't seen Alfred in five years, but he thinks I'll just immediately become best friends with him. And why the bloody hell did Allistor—"

Arthur's rant was cut short by the phone ringing its familiar, annoying ring. Arthur jumped off the couch and ran to the phone, grabbing it off the wall and nearly dropping it in the process.

"Hello?" He paused. "Yes, this is Arthur Kirkland." He was silent for another moment then, "Yes. I understand. Thank you. Bye." He put the phone back on the receiver and slowly walked back to the sofa. He carelessly sank down next to Francis.

"So, did you get the job?"

"No."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's fine. I just really needed this job. I don't know if I'll be able to pay this month's rent, though."

"Oh."

"Nevermind. I don't want to bother you with my boring money problems."

Francis suddenly gasped, making Arthur jump. "_Chéri_, I have the greatest idea. Why don't you move in with me?"

"What? That's a terrible idea."

"Why? It will be perfect."

"Why? Because I've only known you for a month. We're not even… I don't…" Arthur's voice trailed off.

"You don't what? Love me?"

"That's not what I was going to say."

"Well do you?"

"Do I what?"

"Do you love me?" It broke Francis's heart to have to ask this, but it had been on his mind ever since last night.

Arthur took a while to respond. He stared at the ground for a moment before looking back at Francis. "I don't even know where to begin." He closed his eyes. "Francis. I do love you. At first I was just really confused because the last person that made me feel this way is… Nevermind. Now that I think about it, I do love you." He opened his eyes again, and Francis was crying. "Are you really crying?"

"_Je t'aime aussi_," Francis said before leaning to kiss Arthur, and he was glad that Arthur kissed back. When he broke away, he said, "So you don't want to move in with me?"

"Wait a month."

* * *

><p><strong>~One Month Later~<strong>

Arthur sat at his kitchen table, staring at the paper in his hand. He couldn't believe that this was happening. He had tried so hard to keep up with his rent, but apparently he didn't do it well enough. He had found the bright green eviction notice hanging on his door when he got home from the grocery store.

He reached in his pocket and pulled out his cell phone, which he could only afford because Francis had insisted that he buy it for him. No matter what Arthur said, Francis wouldn't take no for an answer. He only had one number in his contacts list, and that was Francis. He pressed the call button and brought the phone to his ear.

After ringing several times, Francis finally answered.

"Arthur, _bonjour_!"

"Hello. Are you busy right now? Do you think you could come over for a while?"

"Of course. I'll be right there," Francis replied cheerfully.

"Thanks. See you then."

"_Au revoir_." Arthur hung up the phone and looked back at the green paper he was holding. He sighed and put it down. He decided a nice cup of tea would help to clear his mind. He walked over to his kettle and started to heat up the water. He didn't know why he invited Francis over, but he thought seeing Francis would make him feel better.

Arthur perked up when he heard the doorbell ring. He quickly made his way to the door and threw it open. "Francis? How did you get here so fast?"

"I was already on my way over when you called."

"Why?"

"Because. It's been a month."

"A month? What are you talking about?"

Francis pushed his way past Arthur and into his flat. He grabbed Arthur's hand and pulled him into the living room and onto the sofa. "Remember? Exactly a month ago in this exact spot, I asked you to move in with me."

"Oh. I forgot about that."

"So will you?"

The whistling of the tea kettle prevented Arthur from responding. He stood up while saying, "I'll be right back. Do you want tea?"

"No, thanks."

"Okay." He walked to the kitchen and grabbed a tea cup out of the cupboard and tea out of another. He poured the water into the cup and let the teabag soak.

While waiting for the tea to brew, he looked over at the table in the corner along with the green paper that was so bright, it hurt to look at for too long. Why did they make it green? Out of all colors, they just had to choose green. Arthur had no idea why it bothered him so much.

"Arthur, are you okay? You've been in here for ten minutes," Francis said as he stepped through the kitchen door.

"Hmm. Really?" Arthur didn't realize how long he had been staring at the notice. No matter how much it burned to look at it, he couldn't look away.

Francis followed Arthur's gaze, and when he saw the piece of paper, he walked over to the table. He picked it up, read it, and then turned to Arthur, who was still staring at the place where the paper was before Francis grabbed it.

"Arthur?"

"Hmm?" He didn't look up.

"Are you okay," Francis asked again.

"Yeah," Arthur replied, slowly looking up at Francis. "Why wouldn't I be okay?"

"Well, you are being kicked out of your flat."

"Yeah. I am."

"Are you sure that you are okay?"

He smiled. "I'm just dandy. Thanks for asking," he responded sarcastically.

"Arthur, come here."

Arthur looked at Francis for a moment, confused, before walking over to him. "What?"

Francis suddenly grabbed Arthur and hugged him, and Arthur stiffened. He stayed in shock for a few seconds before he hugged Francis back. The hug lingered a bit too long for Arthur's liking, but Francis broke away before it became awkward.

"What was that for?"

"I don't hug you enough."

"Oh," was all that Arthur said in response.

"So," Francis said, breaking the awkward silence that had threatened to creep up on them.

"So, what?"

"Do you want to move in with me? Please don't make me wait another month for an answer."

Arthur sighed. This was the Francis that he had once thought he had hated. The same Francis that had almost died. The same Francis that Arthur had been through so much with. The same Francis that probably still wasn't completely sane. This was the Francis that Arthur had learned to love, the one that had convinced him to fall in love. This was the Francis that grabbed Arthur's hand way too much to drag him into the unknown all while teaching Arthur how to take risks. This was the Francis that always invaded everyone's personal space but at the same time taught Arthur that it was okay to be close to someone. This was the Francis that Arthur loved.

"Alright," Arthur replied. "Fine. I'll move in with you."

"_Merci, chéri_. Come on. I'll help you pack."

"It's rather soon for that isn't it?"

"It's never too soon."

* * *

><p><strong>~Three years later~<strong>

Arthur couldn't believe that he had been living with Francis for three years, exactly three years. Those few years flew by so fast that Arthur could barely keep up with them.

Living with Francis was everything Arthur had expected it to be, which was chaotic. Francis had no schedule, and since Arthur finally managed to get a job, he decided it was about time for Francis to be more organized. So after weeks of pushing Francis out of bed at 6 AM every day, he had finally been able to make it a normal thing to get up that early. There were nearly ten bedrooms in this house, but Arthur and Francis always slept in the same bed every night.

Arthur looked up from the book he was reading when he heard the front door open and close, and footsteps coming quickly towards the living room.

"Arthur! Stop whatever you're doing and come with me right now!"

"What?" Arthur was startled by Francis's unexpected, dramatic entrance, and he nearly dropped his book.

"No time to explain. Come on." Francis ran over to Arthur, grabbed the book out of his hand, tossing it to the side, grabbed Arthur by the wrist and dragged him out of the house. They scrambled down the steps and to Francis's car, where Francis shoved Arthur into the passenger seat and got into the car himself.

"Francis, where are we going?"

Francis laughed in response. "You'll find out."

"Can I open my eyes now," Arthur said as Francis guided him through what Arthur thought was a doorway.

"_Non_. Just a second." Francis pulled Arthur a few more feet forward and stopped. "Okay. You can look now."

Arthur opened his eyes. He didn't know where he was due to the lack of actual light, but he could tell that Francis had decorated the place. Roses were strewn nearly everywhere, lit candles were set on sever shelves and tables scattered about the room, and in the center was a table. This reminded Arthur of the last time they had had a romantic dinner together, which was their two year anniversary. Francis had made a huge deal out of it then too, but today wasn't a special occasion, other than the fact that they had been living together for three years, so Arthur had no idea why Francis had gone through all of this trouble.

"What is this," Arthur asked as Francis led him to the table sitting in the middle of the room. "And where are we?"

"Exactly three years ago, you agreed to move in with me. These have been the best three years of my life Arthur, and I want the rest to be even better."

"Yeah, but where are we?"

"Does that matter? You're ruining the mood."

"Yes, Francis, it does matter."

"Fine. Sit down and I'll tell you."

"Alright." Arthur sat down in the chair across from Francis. "Where are we?"

"You don't remember this place?"

"Well, maybe I could if it wasn't so dark in here." Arthur was right. The lights were off. The only source of light was the small flames of the candles scattered about, which didn't allow Arthur to see much.

"Oh. Sorry. Give me one second." Francis jumped up and ran to the wall opposite the door. He flicked a switch and blindingly bright light immediately filled the room. At that moment, Arthur finally understood what was happening. The two were eating dinner in the hospital room that Francis had once been forced to stay in for weeks.

"Francis, what's going on?"

"This is where I first told you I loved you."

"Yeah… I love you too."

"I know that. And our first actual date, if you could call it that, was a romantic dinner just like this, all thrown together by _moi_."

"I don't understand where you're going with this."

Francis shut off the light again, and Arthur blinked a couple times, his eyes adjusting to the sudden lack of light. Francis walked back over to the table and got down on one knee next to Arthur.

"Francis… what?"

"Arthur will you," Francis started as he reached into his pocket. His hand got stuck when he tried to pull it out. "Just a second." Francis struggled for a moment before pulling out a small black box, opening it, and holding it up to Arthur. "Marry me," he finished.

"Oh good God. Yes I will marry you, frog."

"Really?" Francis looked up at Arthur, his blue eyes reflecting the bright orange candle light, making them even more beautiful than usual.

"Did you actually think I would say no?"

"Well…"

Francis didn't get to finish his sentence because Arthur was already kissing him. He kissed him like he would never be able to kiss him again. It wasn't a surprise that Francis tasted like roses and wine. It was something Arthur had gotten used to. When they broke away Arthur remembered that they were in a hospital room. "How did you get the doctor to allow you to use this room?"

"I have connections."

"I'm going to let you leave it at that."

"That is a good idea."

The end

* * *

><p><strong>Note: <strong>There will definitely be and epilogue. Did you guys really think I would leave you hanging like that?


	21. Epilogue

**~One year later~**

Arthur had no idea why Francis wanted to wait a year to get married, but Arthur rarely knew what motivated Francis's actions most of the time, so he went along with it.

They had no clue how they would start planning their wedding. Arthur suggested that they just sign a marriage certificate and leave that at that, but Francis insisted that they have the fanciest wedding to ever exist.

They were extremely relieved to hear that Gilbert's girlfriend, Elizabeta (they got back together after they had a long talk, mostly consisting of Gilbert begging for her to take him back) really wanted to plan their wedding. So for the last twelve months, Arthur's life was nothing but "Which flowers would go better with the tablecloths?" And "Your wedding will be perfect, trust me."

Now, as Arthur stood at the altar, looking at Francis, he couldn't believe how fast those twelve months had flown by. As he stood here, listening to the priest mutter on and on about the holiness of marriage and all of the stuff that Arthur never thought he would care about until now, he looked at Francis, who had tears of joy running down his cheeks. Arthur figured that Francis would be the one to cry at a wedding, especially his own.

At last, the words that Arthur had been anticipating this whole time were finally spoken in the priest's monotonous voice.

"Do you, Arthur Kirkland, take Francis Bonnefoy to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

Arthur looked at Francis again, and this time Francis looked back, and Arthur could feel his eyes starting to tear up as well. _I will not cry._

"I do," he replied.

"And do you, Francis Bonnefoy, take Arthur Kirkland to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

"I do."

"Then you may now kiss the… groom." It was obvious that this priest didn't do gay weddings often, but he was the only one Elizabeta could find that was willing to marry them at all.

Arthur wasn't sure when Francis had started kissing him, but he now realized that he had his lips pressed to Francis's, just like they had so many times before. Francis broke away sooner than Arthur expected him to, but he remembered that they were in front of a bunch of people.

The crowd cheered, and the rest of the wedding proceeded like a normal wedding should. They had their reception. They danced and ate and talked with their friends, and to Arthur it just felt like any other day that he spent with his friends and Francis. When everybody had gone home, Francis and Arthur were left alone at the church.

"We should probably go home now," Arthur said as he stood up from the chair he was sitting in.

"Yes, we should," Francis agreed. He stood up and followed Arthur outside the church and they got in their car.

"Or," Francis started. "We could go somewhere else."

"Where else is there to go?"

"Anywhere you want, _chéri._"

"What are you talking about?"

"We should run away. Leave everything behind. Just like they do in those romance movies and televisions shows you love to watch," Francis explained.

"Why on earth would we do that?!" Arthur had known Francis for nearly five years and he was still surprised by almost everything that came out of the madman's mouth.

"Because soon enough, our lives will get boring, and we will end up being just like that annoying old couple that lives down the street that always yells at us when we walk by. We need change."

"I happen to like our life how it is."

"Alright," Francis said, defeated, as he started the car. "But in five years, if we end up acting like one of those cliché old couples, I am divorcing you."

"In five years we won't be old. We'll only be in our thirties."

"That _is_ old."

"Francis, you're thirty."

"Oh,_ mon dieu,_ you're right."

Arthur laughed. "You're memory's already starting to go. Pretty soon you won't even remember my name."

"Stop laughing." Francis slapped Arthur's arm playfully. "It's not funny." But he was laughing as well. He brought the car to a stop in front of their house, and they got out of the car and went inside.

"So, _chéri_, it is our first night as a married couple. Is there something special you want to do?"

"I think I have something in mind."

* * *

><p><strong>~Five years later~<strong>

The office that Arthur sat in was not exactly how he thought it would be. It was small and damp, and it smelled rather awful. He wasn't sure that he should be here, but Francis was here as well, and he had been the one to drag Arthur to this depressing room.

"So," said the woman sitting at the desk that they were facing. "Why do you two think that this is the best choice?"

"Well, we have both thought it through and discussed it with each other, and we agree that this is the only option," Arthur replied.

"Alright," the woman said as she bent down to pull several papers out of her desk drawer. She placed them in front of Francis and Arthur. "Sign here." She pointed at a blank line at the bottom of one paper labeled "signature." Arthur picked the pen up off of the desk and signed the paper, and Francis did the same with the other identical paper.

The woman gathered the papers and stood up. "Thank you. Please wait here for a moment." She walked out of the room and Francis breathed a sigh of relief.

"I can't believe we're doing this," Arthur said in response to Francis's sigh.

"Well, we always talked about it. I never thought we would actually go through with it though." Francis's eyes started to tear up.

"Don't cry."

"But what if I can't do this."

"Francis, we'll both be fine."

"But–"

Francis's statement was interrupted by the door opening. The woman stepped through, holding a small white bundle in her arms. She walked over to Francis and Arthur, who were now both standing up, and handed the soft, white, blanket-wrapped child to Arthur.

"Did you have a name in mind," the woman asked.

"Victoria," Arthur replied. "Victoria Bonnefoy." After hours of arguing, the couple had agreed that if Arthur could pick the first name, then their daughter could take Francis's last name.

"She's beautiful, Arthur," Francis said, his eyes full of tears again, but this time for a completely different reason. The baby girl in Arthur's arms was the most beautiful child Arthur had ever seen. Her brown eyes were slowly opening, and when they were wide open she smiled, melting Arthur's heart.

"Francis," Arthur started. "I think we'll be great parents."

The end

* * *

><p><strong>Note:<strong> Sorry for the short epilogue, but it's cute. By the way, Victoria is Seychelles. I don't think she has an official human name, but I looked it up and found some suggestions, and I really like Victoria.


End file.
